UCSB  LIBRARY 


WHEN   DADDY  WAS  A   BOY 


WE   WOULD   ALL   RUN    DOWN    TO    OPEN   THE    GATE. 


WHEN  DADDY 
WAS  A  BOY 

BY 

THOMAS  WOOD  PARRY 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

H.  WOOD 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,    BROWN,    AND    COMPANY 
1918 


Copyright,  1907 
BY  THOMAS  WOOD  PAF.RY 


All  rights  reserved 


DEDICATION. 

THIS    BOOK    IS    AFFECTIONATELY   DEDICATED    TO 
MY   WIFE    AND    OUR   TWO    BOYS. 

THOMAS   WOOD   PARRY. 


PREFACE 

There  probably  never  was  a  father  who  did 
not  have  to  face  the  demand,  "Daddy,  tell  me  a 
story  about  when  you  were  a  little  boy."  And 
there  probably  never  was  a  boy  who  did  not 
find  a  story  about  his  own  father's  boyhood 
more  fascinating  than  any  other. 

The  stories  which  follow  were  in  answer  to 
such  demands.  Many  of  them  are  partly  true, 
even  the  one  Negro  folk-lore  story  having  this 
element  of  truth — that  it  was  told  to  me  in  my 
boyhood,  with  many  others  of  the  Bre'r  Rabbit 
and  Bre'r  Fox  kind,  by  my  own  old  black 
folks  around  the  cabin  fire.  I  incorporate  this 
one  as  a  sample,  yet  I  use  only  one  because 
they  have  all  been  published  before. 

Some  expressions,  many  of  them  colloquial, 
will  be  found  in  the  stories  which  might  be 
questioned  from  a  rhetorical  standpoint.  Of 
these  I  have  only  to  say  that  the  stories  were 
told,  not  written,  and  that  they  were  told  to 
children.  They  are  printed  for  children,  and 
have  therefore  been  kept  as  much  like  the 
told  story  as  possible. 

THOMAS  WOOD  PARRY. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

MY  OLD  B'ACK  MA'Y 11 

THE  NEGRO  CABIN 18 

OLD  BUSTER  AND  THE  SOLDIER 24 

OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  HER  DUCKS 30 

OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  THE  HAWK 36 

LITTLE  BROTHER'S  CAT 44 

HUNTING  BEARS 48 

THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE 54 

THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST 64 

THE  NEST  OLD  TOPKNOT  MADE 73 

WADING  IN  THE  BRANCH 77 

RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW 87 

EATING  GRAVEYARD  BLACKBERRIES     ....  102 

THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST Ill 

THE  TAR  MAN 123 

FINDING  THINGS 130 

SHEP 140 

CATCHING  BIRDS 151 

THE  MILL-DAM 159 

THE  WOODS  OWL 170 

SHEP  AND  THE  LAMB 176 

THE  LOOM-HOUSE 182 

FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR  .  187 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

LITTLE  DICK 202 

THE  HAY  HARVEST 

TRAPPING 

"I  WCW'T  Do  IT"     . 

GRANDPA'S  DOG  COALY 

THE  FOX-HUNT . 

"ABERPERDABER" 

JOE  AND  THE  DEAD  INDIAN 

"GRANDPAP'S  COME" 

THE  CIRCUS 


FULL  PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"We  would  all  run  down  to  open  the  gate"     Frontispiece 

PAGE 

" 'Deed  I  will  be  good  to  dis  baby,  I  will"    ....  13 

"And  Mammy  would  call  me  her  onliest  baby"  .    .  19 

"And  he  didn't  get  to  shoot  old  Buster"       ....  25 

"  Away  they  went,  right  into  it " 31 

"The  old  hen  told  them  to  run  and  hide"     ....  37 

"  Fro'  down  yo'  gun  en  clam  er  tree  " 49 

"  The  horses  started  and  he  fell  off  backward  "     .    .  55 

"GoodLawdy!    What '11  Mammy  say  ?"       ....  79 

"En  heah  you  all's  a-settin'  on  top  o'  dey  bones!"  103 

"  Three  heads  just  showing  above  the  straw  "       .    .  113 

"He  knew  every  cow,  and  would  bring  them  all"    .  141 

"  Elephant,  tigers,  and  birds  of  paradise  "      ....  161 

"  He  carried  the  lamb  and  they  followed "     ....  177 

" It's  Billy,  and  Dan's  ridin'  him" 189 

"  Many  a  fine  day  in  that  old  meadow  " 211 

"  The  finest  music  that  you  ever  heard  " 245 

"The  doors  are  now  open;  crawl  under  the  tent"    .  273 

ILLUSTRATIONS   IN  THE  TEXT 

"  And  then  we  giggled " 44 

"Oh,  yes,  it  was  a  fox"         64 

' '  What  a  fine  nest  I  Ve  made ! "   .  73 


x  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"And  watched  it  as  it  cut  through  the  sod"     ...  87 

"Lemme  loose,  I  tell  you!"      123 

"Go  on,  niggah;  I  ain't  afeard" 131 

"The  light  from  the  candle  would  blind  the  birds"  151 

"On-twis'  'im!    On-twis'  'im!" 170 

"They  were  coming  in" 182 

"In  all  sorts  of  mischief" 202 

"Ready  for  company" 221 

"I  won't  do  it  —  Yas,  suh;  yas,  suh,  I  will"    .    .    .  233 

"Go  after  him,  Coaly!" 238 

"Aberperdaber!" 257 

"OLawdy,  Mr.  Injun!" 262 

1 '  Hev  a  sweetcake  ? "  267 


MY  OLD  B'ACK  MA'Y. 

THE  LITTLE  boy  was  fretful  and  cross. 
He  was  a  very  little  boy,  and  he  was  cutting 
a  tooth.  No  wonder  he  was  cross.  His 
gums  hurt,  his  little  legs  were  chafed,  and  he  had 
a  touch  of  something  very  much  like  the  colic, 
which  he  was  supposed  to  have  outgrown.  So 
he  just  cried  and  fretted;  it  was  all  he  could  do, 
poor  little  boy,  and  no  one  blamed  him  a  bit. 
Maybe  there  was  a  pin  sticking  him  or  a  band 
too  tight,  and  he  couldn't  tell  a  word  about  it,  or 
get  any  of  the  big  people  around  to  understand 
what  was  the  matter;  but  he  could  cry,  and  that 
expressed  all  his  troubles,  so  he  just  cried. 

"Hello!  little  man,"  said  papa,  coming  into 
the  room.  "What  is  the  matter  with  daddy's 
boy?" 

The  little  boy  looked  up  expectantly,  for  he 
had  begun  to  like  daddy  pretty  well  and  to  find 
out  that  he  was  of  some  use  in  the  world,  after 
all.  His  crying  stopped  with  a  few  mild  little 
sobs,  and  he  put  up  his  arms. 

11 


12  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

Papa  took  him  up  and  began  to  walk  with 
him. 

The  little  boy  looked  up,  expecting  to  hear  a 
song  about  "Yankee  Doodle,"  "Old  Dan  Tuck- 
er," or  "Little  Boy  Blue."  He  did  not  know 
what  any  of  them  meant,  of  course,  but  he  had 
heard  them  and  liked  them  all.  Daddy  had 
sung  until  he  was  tired,  however,  and  he  wasn't 
much  of  a  singer,  anyway. 

"Suppose  I  tell  you  a  story  about  when  I  was 
a  little  boy,"  said  papa. 

It  is  hard  to  say  just  how  much  of  this  the 
little  boy  understood,  but  very  little  boys  under- 
stand a  great  deal  more  sometimes  than  older 
people  think  they  do.  Anyway,  it  seemed  to 
please  him,  and  he  gave  a  little  grunt  of  approval, 
and  put  up  one  of  his  chubby  hands  on  his  father's 
chin,  with  the  tips  of  four  pink  fingers  between 
his  lips.  Maybe  he  was  wondering  how  a  big 
man  like  papa  could  ever  have  been  a  little  boy; 
and  also,  if  a  little  bit  of  a  boy  like  himself  could 
ever  get  to  be  as  big  a  man  as  papa. 

"Well,"  said  papa,  "when  I  was  a  little  bit 
of  a  baby,  just  the  littlest  kind  of  a  baby,  my 
mamma  gave  me  away  to  a  black  negro  girl. 
When  I  was  just  a  day  old,  my  mamma  sent  out 
to  the  cabin  for  the  blackest  kind  of  a  negro 


"  'DEED  i  WILL  BE  GOOD  TO  DIS  BABY,  i  WILL. 


MY  OLD  B'ACK  MA'Y.  15 

girl  named  Mary.  Mary  came  in  where  the  little 
baby  was,  and  stood  looking  at  him  and  grinning. 

"'Oh,  my!  Ain't  he  p'ity!'  said  Mary. 
'Kin  I  tech  him,  Miss  Ella?' 

"  'Mary,'  said  my  mamma,  'I  am  going  to 
give  this  baby  to  you  to  take  care  of.  You  can 
call  him  your  baby,  and  when  he  gets  big  enough 
you  can  take  him  out  in  the  yard  and  in  the  fields 
with  you.  You  won't  have  anything  to  do  but 
take  care  of  him.  He  is  your  baby  now,  and  you 
must  be  good  to  him.' 

"  'Yes  'm,  I  sho'ly  will  take  ca'h  ob  'im,'  said 
Mary,  '  an'  I  's  awful  proud  ob  'im.  Lemme  hoi' 
him  right  now.  'Deed  I  will  be  good  to  dis 
baby,  I  will.  Nobody  ner  nuffin  bettah  nevah 
tech  'im,  dey  hadn't.' 

' '  So  Mary  took  him  in  her  arms  and  coddled 
him  up  and  loved  him. 

"When  he  got  bigger,  she  used  to  take  him 
out  in  the  yard  under  the  apple-trees  and  put  a 
big  quilt  on  the  grass  and  lay  him  down  on  it. 
Then  she  would  bring  him  big  red  apples  to  play 
with;  he  was  too  little  to  eat  them.  Sometimes 
she  would  hold  him  on  old  Buster's  back — that 
was  the  dog — and  let  him  ride;  and  every  time 
the  little  boy  rode  on  old  Buster's  shaggy  back  he 
clapped  his  hands  and  squealed  because  he 


16  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

was  glad.  And  old  Buster  was  proud  to  be 
carrying  the  little  boy,  and  held  his  head  and 
tail  up  high,  and  went  easy  to  keep  from  drop- 
ping him  off.  But  Mary  always  had  her  fat 
black  hands  under  the  little  boy's  arms,  holding 
him  so  he  couldn't  fall;  and  if  old  Buster  went 
too  fast,  he  would  just  walk  out  from  under  the 
baby  boy  and  leave  him  in  Mary's  arms — she 
never  would  let  the  baby  fall;  then  old  Buster 
would  turn  around  and  come  back,  wagging  his 
tail,  to  take  the  little  boy  another  ride.  Wasn't 
he  a  good  old  dog?  I  will  tell  you  some  time 
how  the  little  boy  paid  old  Buster  back  one  day 
for  being  good  to  him." 

Papa  stopped  talking  a  minute,  and  the  little 
boy  grunted  two  or  three  times  and  put  his  hand 
up  to  his  father's  lips  again. 

1 '  Well,  Mary  nursed  the  baby  and  took  care 
of  him  and  called  him  'my  baby.'  Sometimes 
she  said,  'my  onliest  baby,'  and  when  the  little 
boy  got  old  enough  to  talk,  he  called  her  'my 
old  b'ack  Ma'y.'  And  one  time  not  long  ago, 
after  daddy  had  been  away  from  the  old  home 
ever  so  many  years,  he  went  back,  and  while 
he  was  in  a  store  a  big,  fat,  black  woman  came 
running  into  the  store  and  said:  'Lawd  bress 
my  soul,  ef  thah  ain't  my  baby!'  It  was 


MY  OLD  B'ACK  MA'Y.  17 

daddy's  old  b'ack  Ma'y  sure  enough,  and  she  just 
threw  her  arms  around  her  baby  and  gave  him  a 
good  hug.  Her  baby  was  a  grown  man  with  a 
big  black  mustache,  and  didn't  look  very  much 
like  anybody's  baby,  but  it  made  no  difference 
to  Mary;  it  was  her  baby  just  the  same,  and  I 
suppose  he  would  be  yet  if  she  could  see  him. 
And  the  big  grown-up  baby  was  just  as  glad  to 
see  her,  and  he  patted  her  on  the  shoulder  and 
said:  'Well!  Well!  Well!  If  it  isn't  my  old 
black  Mary!  Bless  your  good  old  heart!  I  'm 
awfully  glad  to  see  you.' 

"  '  Why,  bress  my  soul!  you  's  des  as  purty  as 
you  was  when  you  was  a  little  baby,'  said  Mary. 

"Then  Mary  and  her  big  baby  talked  a  long 
while  about  old  times,  and  each  one  asked  about 
the  other's  folks,  and  wished  that  they  could  all 
be  back  on  the  old  farm  again  as  they  used  to  be. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  papa's  good  old 
b'ack  Ma'y?  Well,  maybe  when  we  get  rich  we 
can  go  to  see  her  or  get  her  to  come  out  here." 

And  then  papa  fell  to  thinking  hard  about 
something,  and  the  little  boy  closed  his  eyes  and 
went  to  sleep. 


THE  NEGRO  CABIN. 

THE  NEXT  TIME  papa  came  in  when  the 
little  boy  was  feeling  real  bad,  he  stopped 
crying  and  held  up  his  hands.    Papa  picked 
him  up  and  started  to  walking  and  singing  ' '  Old 
Dan  Tucker";  but  the  little  boy  was  not  sat- 
isfied and  was  about  to  cry  again.     Finally,  papa 
said:     "Well,  let 's  tell  another  story.     I  '11  tell 
you  about  Henry  and  Jimmy."     And  then  the 
little  boy  put  his  fingers  up  to  his  father's  lips 
again. 

"Well,  Henry  was  a  little  black  negro  boy 
and  Jimmy  was  a  little  yellow  negro  boy.  Hen- 
ry was  the  oldest  and  I  was  next  and  Jimmy 
was  the  youngest.  Their  pappy's  name  was 
John  and  their  mammy's  name  was  Maria,  and 
I  used  to  call  their  pappy  Uncle  John  and  their 
mammy — well,  I  sometimes  called  her  Mammy 
Maria,  but  most  all  the  time  I  just  called  her 
Mammy,  as  the  little  negro  boys  themselves  did. 
And  Mammy  Maria  used  to  call  me  her  onliest 
baby,  and  used  to  give  me  cookies  and  maple 

18 


AND   MAMMY    WOULD    CALL   ME    HER    ONLIEST    BABY. 


THE  NEGRO  CABIN.  21 

sugar,  and  make  doughnuts  for  me  that  looked 
like  little  dolls  and  some  that  looked  like  ducks 
and  some  like  pigs.  She  would  bake  them  and 
give  them  to  me,  and  I  would  always  give  some 
to  Henry  and  Jimmy. 

' '  At  night  I  would  go  down  to  the  cabin  and 
listen  to  Uncle  John  play  the  fiddle,  and  some- 
times I  would  see  the  negroes  dance,  and  then 
Uncle  John  and  all  of  them  would  tell  stories. 
They  would  tell  all  about  the  bears  and  foxes 
and  'coons  and  rabbits  and  the  opossums.  The 
negroes  knew  how  all  the  animals  and  birds  out 
in  the  woods  and  fields  lived,  and  they  told 
stories  about  them  and  called  them  '  Bre'r  Rab- 
bit '  and  'Bre'r  Fox'  and  'Bre'r  Bear.'  And  then 
when  it  got  to  be  bed-time,  Uncle  John  would 
take  me  in  his  arms  and  carry  me  up  to  the 
house.  Sometimes  Mammy  would  carry  me  and 
sometimes  Mary. 

' '  I  loved  Uncle  John  and  Mammy  and  Mary 
and  Henry  and  Jimmy  almost  as  much  as  I  did 
my  own  father  and  mother,  and  I  loved  Johnny 
and  Harrison  and  Sam  and  Liz  and  all  the  rest 
too,  but  Mary  and  Mammy  and  Henry  and  Jim- 
my were  the  ones  I  loved  best. 

' '  Whenever  any  of  them  would  carry  me  up 
to  the  house,  grandpa  would  make  them  come 


22  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

in  and  sit  down,  and  they  would  be  mightily 
pleased.  He  would  ask  Uncle  John  about  the 
horses  and  crops  and  cattle,  and  grandma  would 
ask  Mammy  about  the  soap-making  or  when  the 
geese  ought  to  be  picked  and  all  about  the  pre- 
serving, and  when  they  went  back  to  the  cab- 
in they  would  always  carry  some  little  present 
with  them. 

"One  night  when  I  had  been  to  the  cabin  and 
the  negroes  had  told  lots  of  stories,  and  it  was 
later  than  we  thought  it  was,  grandpa  called 
Uncle  John  and  told  him  to  bring  me  up  to  bed, 
and  when  he  started  with  me,  I  said,  '  I  want 
Mammy  to  go  too";  so  Mammy  put  her  shawl 
over  her  head  and  came  along  too,  but  we  hadn't 
got  out  of  the  door  until  I  said,  '  I  want  Ma'y 
too,  and  Henry  and  Jimmy,'  and  before  they 
could  get  me  up  to  the  house  I  had  made  nearly 
every  negro  in  the  cabin  go  along  with  me. 

"When  granpa  opened  the  door  the  negroes 
began  to  back  off  in  the  dark  so  he  couldn't  see 
them,  but  he  saw  them,  and  Uncle  John  told 
him  why  they  had  all  come.  Then  grandpa 
laughed  and  asked  all  of  them  to  come  in;  then 
he  sent  Johnny  back  for  Uncle  John's  fiddle  and 
handed  it  to  him  before  he  knew  it  was  there, 
and  Uncle  John  said  his  finger  was  sore  and  he 
couldn't  play  much,  but  he  soon  forgot  all  about 


THE  NEGRO  CABIN.  23 

his  sore  finger,  and  in  a  little  while  was  playing 
just  as  if  he  were  down  in  the  cabin,  only  a  little 
better  maybe.  They  all  had  apples  and  pop- 
corn, and  everybody  had  a  good  time.  Grand- 
ma gave  Mary  and  Liz  some  new  ribbons  and 
Mammy  some  linen  for  aprons  and  sent  Aunt 
Nina  some  yarn  to  knit  socks,  and  then  grandpa 
gave  Uncle  John  a  set  of  new  fiddle-strings  and 
the  boys  some  gloves.  Mammy  Maria  was  the 
best  talker  of  them  all,  so  she  said: 

"  'Lawsy!  Mahs  Ben,  anybody  'd  think  all 
these  heah  niggas  still  b'longed  to  you,  jes  like 
dey  used  to,  an'  you  wasn't  payin'  us  good  wages 
an'  us  a-layin'  aroun'  heah  a-eatin'  up  yo'  co'n 
an'  bacon  an'  bu'nin'  yo'  fiah-wood.' 

"  '  Well,  I  can't  get  rid  of  you,'  said  grandpa, 
winking  at  Uncle  John,  '  so  I  might  as  well  take 
care  of  you.' 

"But  they  all  knew  he  was  joking,  and  they 
all  grinned  and  kept  right  on  eating  apples  and 
popcorn,  and  they  all  knew  he  was  in  earnest 
when  he  said:  'I  need  you  all,  Maria,  and  you 
are  working  for  small  wages,  and  we  won't  forget 
that  we  have  all  belonged  to  the  same  family  for 
fifty  years  and  more.' 

"Then  they  all  said  good-night  and  went 
back  to  the  cabin,  and  by  that  time  I  was  sound 
asleep  on  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fire." 


OLD  BUSTER  AND  THE  SOLDIER. 

AFTER  the  stories  about  the  darkies  at  the 
cabins  and  Uncle  John  and  his  fiddle,  there 
were  many  stories,  and  the  little  boy  would 
put  up  his  arms  and  smile  for  them  whenever  his 
father  came  near.  Pretty  soon  he  got  big 
enough  to  say,  "  'To'y,  daddy,  'to'y";  and  one 
night  papa  said,  "Really,  this  is  getting  to  be  a 
habit,  this  story-telling;  I  didn't  realize  what  I 
was  getting  into. ' '  But  he  kept  on  telling  stories 
just  the  same,  and  mamma  said  she  believed 
that  papa  enjoyed  them  as  much  as  the  baby. 
The  little  boy  was  told  all  about  "Bre'r  Bear" 
and  "Bre'r  Fox"  and  "Bre'r  Rabbit,"  just  as 
the  same  stories  had  been  told  to  him  when  he 
was  a  little  boy,  and  finally  his  father  bought  a 
book  called  "Uncle  Remus,"  and  read  to  the 
little  boy  the  very  same  stories  he  had  been  tell- 
ing him — the  same  stories  that  every  little 
Southern  boy  has  heard  in  the  negro  cabins  on 
the  old  plantations.  Then  he  began  to  hear 
other  stories  about  a  particular  little  boy  and 

24 


"AND  HE  DIDN'T  GET  TO  SHOOT  OLD  BUSTER." 


OLD  BUSTER  AND  THE  SOLDIER,  27 

the  little  negroes  that  he  was  raised  with,  and 
the  dogs  and  horses  on  the  old  Kentucky  farm. 
The  little  boy  had  grown  very  fast,  and  had 
learned  to  talk  and  ask  for  the  stories  he  liked 
best  to  hear. 

"Tell  me  'bout  Shep  or  sumpin'  'bout  a 
dog,"  he  said  one  day,  as  he  climbed  up  between 
papa  and  the  paper  he  was  reading. 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  papa;  "I  promised  a  long 
time  ago  that  I  would  tell  you  something  more 
about  old  Buster.  He  was  the  dog  we  had  when 
I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  baby.  Well,  when  I  got  to 
be  a  big  boy  about  four  years  old,  just  as  old  as 
you  are  now,  why  old  Buster  was  getting  to  be  a 
very  old,  old  dog,  because  he  was  a  great  big  dog 
when  I  was  born. 

"Well,  when  I  was  four  years  old,  an  awful 
war  had  been  going  on  for  a  long  time.  One  day 
some  soldiers  rode  up  in  grandpa's  yard,  and  one 
of  them,  the  captain,  told  grandpa  to  go  to  the 
stable  and  get  him  a  horse.  The  soldier  came  up 
real  close  to  the  house,  and  old  Buster  ran  out 
and  barked  at  him.  The  soldier  was  mad  and 
cross,  and  old  Buster  barked  so  loud  and  fast 
that  the  soldier  couldn't  hear  what  grandpa  was 
saying;  and  the  first  thing  we  knew  the  old 
soldier  took  his  gun  from  behind  his  saddle  and 


28  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

pointed  it  right  at  old  Buster.  I  was  standing 
by  listening,  and  when  I  saw  the  gun  pointed  at 
my  good  old  dog,  I  just  ran  and  grabbed  him 
around  the  neck.  The  soldier  put  his  gun  down 
and  didn't  shoot,  and  I  didn't  let  go  of  old  Bus- 
ter until  the  soldier  was  gone.  He  took  one  of 
grandpa's  best  horses  with  him,  but  he  didn't 
get  to  shoot  old  Buster.  I  remember  that  one  of 
the  negro  boys  held  me  on  old  Buster's  back 
and  I  rode  him  back  to  the  house.  No,  we  never 
got  that  horse  back;  but  we  were  used  to  losing 
horses  in  those  times. 

' '  One  of  the  first  things  that  I  can  remember 
is  riding  on  old  Buster.  Mary  would  hold  me  on 
his  back,  and  when  he  got  to  going  too  fast  and 
would  run  out  from  under  me,  Mary  would  hold 
me  right  up  and  keep  me  from  falling,  and  then 
old  Buster  would  turn  around  and  come  back  to 
get  me  again. 

"It  wasn't  long  after  I  saved  him  from  the 
soldier  until  he  got  too  old  and  I  got  too  big  for 
him  to  carry  me.  Then  when  I  would  get  on 
his  back  he  would  sit  right  down  and  slide  me  off 
behind ;  but  he  would  always  look  up  at  me  and 
wag  his  tail  and  rub  his  nose  against  me  when  he 
would  slide  me  off  that  way,  as  much  as  to  say, 
'I  love  you  just  as  much  as  ever,  little  master, 


OLD  BUSTER  AND  THE  SOLDIER.  28 

but  you  are  getting  big  and  heavy  now,  and  old 
Buster  is  getting  old  and  weak.' 

"  Yes,  that 's  all  this  time.  Go  to  sleep  now: 
get  on  a  great  big  old  yellow  dog's  woolly  back 
and  ride  right  into  Nodtown." 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  LHER   DUCKS. 


46  J'T^UCKY  'to'ies  to-night?"  asked  the  lit- 
tle boy,  raising  his  eyebrows  and  nod- 
ding his  head  at  papa. 

'  '  Well,  let  's  see,  "  said  papa.  '  '  I  don't  think 
of  any  right  now,  but  — 

"Oh!  think  right  hard,  daddy.  Something 
about  Shep  or  a  hawk  or  the  chickens." 

"Oh,  yes!  Now  I  have  one.  It  's  about  the 
old  hen  that  raised  the  family  of  ducks. 

"  One  time  grandma  got  some  very  fine  duck 
eggs  from  one  of  her  neighbors,  and  she  wanted 
to  take  extra  care  with  them,  and  have  all  of 
them  to  hatch  out.  So  I  heard  her  say  to 
grandpa  one  day:  '  Well,  if  I  set  these  eggs  under 
a  duck,  she  is  liable  to  go  off  swimming  and  forget 
all  about  them,  so  I  think  I  '11  make  old  Topknot 
raise  the  ducks.  She  has  been  on  the  nest  two 
days  and  nights  now,  and  nothing  under  her  but 
one  old  white  door-knob." 

"Oh,  yes!"  laughed  the  little  boy;  "the  old 

30 


AWAY   THEY    WENT,  RIGHT    INTO    IT.' 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  HER  DUCKS.     33 

hen  thought  that  was  an  egg,  didn't  she  ?  You 
told  me  about  grandma  giving  the  hens  door- 
knobs for  nest-eggs,  didn't  you?  Tell  me  that 
one  again  sometime,  papa,  won't  you?  Go  on, 
daddy." 

"Well,  old  Topknot  was  a  great  big  old 
speckled  hen,  and  grandma  knew  that  she  would 
never  leave  her  nest  long  enough  to  spoil  the 
eggs,  because  she  had  been  tried  before.  So 
grandma  went  and  lifted  old  Topknot  off  the 
nest,  and  she  squalled  and  scolded  and  ruffled 
her  feathers  up,  but  she  didn't  peck  at  grandma 
like  some  of  the  hens  did,  because  she  was  gentle. 
While  grandma  held  her,  grandpa  cleaned  out 
the  nest  and  put  some  nice  fresh  dirt  in  the 
bottom  of  it  and  then  some  nice  clean  straw,  and 
patted  it  into  a  round  nest,  and  then  put  the 
fourteen  eggs  in  it;  then  they  set  old  Topknot 
back  on  the  eggs.  The  old  hen  went  right  to 
work,  fixing  the  eggs  around  with  her  feet  and 
wings  and  bill,  and  then  she  settled  down  to 
business. 

"Well,  sir,  in  four  weeks  there  was  a  little 
duck  under  that  old  hen  for  every  egg  she  had 
set  on.  The  old  hen  turned  her  head  to  one  side 
and  looked  at  them  as  funny  as  if  she  thought, 
'  Well,  these  are  the  strangest-looking  chickens  I 


34  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

ever  saw;  but  I  suppose  they  will  come  out 
all  right.' 

"Next  day  grandpa  put  her  and  the  little 
ducks  in  a  three-cornered  board  pen,  and  pretty 
soon  he  let  them  out  during  the  day  so  they 
could  run  around  and  get  something  to  eat. 
One  day  the  old  hen  wandered  down  by  the 
branch  with  her  family.  She  had  been  running 
and  catching  grasshoppers  until  she  didn't  real- 
ize how  far  she  was  from  home. 

"Well,  sir,  the  very  minute  those  little  ducks 
saw  the  water,  away  they  went,  pell-mell  right 
into  it.  Some  of  them  just  fell  over  on  their 
backs,  on  their  heads,  and  any  way,  just  so  they 
got  into  the  water.  As  soon  as  the  old  hen  saw 
what  was  happening,  she  ran  to  the  bank, 
squawking  and  clucking  and  trying  in  every  way 
in  the  world  to  keep  her  children  from  drowning 
themselves. 

"  'Oh,  my  goodness!'  wailed  the  old  hen;  'I 
always  knew  there  was  something  wrong  with 
these  chickens.  They  never  were  built  right 
from  the  very  first,  and  now  they  haven't  got 
sense  enough  to  keep  from  drowning  themselves. 
Squ-a-w-k,  k-,  k-e,  r-r-h!' 

"And  the  old  hen  stopped  and  threw  up  her 
head  and  looked  all  around,  as  if  she  were  looking 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  HER  DUCKS.     35 

for  help,  and  I  believe  she  was;  but  she  didn't 
see  anybody,  so  she  went  to  fussing  along  the 
bank  again,  and  reaching  out  after  a  little  duck 
with  her  bill  every  time  one  came  near  enough. 

''All  this  time  the  little  ducks  were  having 
the  finest  time  they  ever  dreamed  of,  paddling 
and  chasing  mosquitos  and  sticking  their  heads 
under  water  and  their  bills  in  the  soft  mud.  At 
last  the  ducks  got  tired  and  came  out  of  the 
water,  and  the  old  hen  hurried  them  home. 

' '  Next  morning  she  started  out  in  a  different 
direction,  but  the  little  ducks  soon  found  their 
way  to  the  branch  again,  and  before  long  they 
wouldn't  follow  the  old  hen  at  all;  they  just 
made  a  bee-line  every  morning  for  the  branch, 
and—" 

"What 's  a  'bee-line/  daddy?" 

"That  means  a  straight  line.  I  '11  tell  you 
sometime  why  it  is  called  a  bee-line. 

"And  the  old  hen  had  to  follow  the  ducks. 
She  did  it,  too,  and  took  care  of  them  until  they 
got  big  enough  to  take  care  of  themselves. 

"Then  grandma  said,  '  Well,  old  Topknot  has 
had  enough  trouble  for  one  summer,  and  has 
been  pretty  faithful;  I  '11  set  her  on  hen  eggs 
next  time." 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  THE  HAWK. 

^6  T  T   70ULD  you  like  to  hear  another  story 

y  y      about  old  Topknot?"  said  papa,  one 

warm  summer  day,  as  he  and  the 

little  boy  sat  on  the  front  porch  and  looked  at 

the  little  grass-plot  and  the  hot,  dusty  street. 

"Goon,  daddy." 

"Well,  it's  a  short  story,  but  it  is  one  I 
would  like  to  tell  you  and  one  that,  I  want  you 
to  remember,  is  true. 

' '  One  real  warm  summer  day  grandpa  was 
sitting  on  the  big  side  porch,  with  his  chair 
tilted  back  against  the  wall,  reading  his  paper. 
He  had  just  noticed  old  Topknot  and  her  big 
family  of  chickens  away  down  in  the  yard  under 
some  big  apple-trees,  and  he  was  thinking  how 
nice  they  looked.  I  expect  grandpa  had  just 
about  gone  to  sleep,  for  the  paper  had  fallen  on 
the  floor,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the  old  hen 
squall.  He  jumped  up  and  there  was  a  great 
big  gray  hawk  flying  right  down  towards  old 
Topknot  and  her  chickens 


36 


THE    OLD    HEN   TOLD    THEM    TO    RUN    AND    HIDE. 


TOPKNOT  AND  THE  HAWK.  39 

"Grandpa  knew  before  he  got  his  eyes  open 
just  exactly  what  was  the  matter,  for  he  had 
been  on  the  farm  and  around  among  fowls  and 
animals  too  long  not  to  know  what  old  Top- 
knot's squall  meant.  He  didn't  stop  a  second 
to  think  what  to  do;  he  jumped  up  so  quickly 
that  his  glasses  fell  on  the  floor,  and  ran  in  the 
house  and  picked  up  the  shotgun  from  behind 
the  door.  It  didn't  take  him  a  minute,  for 
grandpa  was  mighty  quick,  even  if  he  was  getting 
old.  When  he  got  back  on  the  porch,  the  hawk 
was  on  the  ground  and  the  old  hen  was  fighting 
him  to  keep  him  from  getting  the  chickens. 

"  The  little  chickens  had  all  run  and  hidden  in 
the  grass  and  under  the  weeds,  and  every  time 
the  hawk  would  get  away  from  the  old  hen  long 
enough  to  find  a  chicken,  the  old  hen  would  be 
right  on  him  again.  The  hen  and  hawk  were  so 
mixed  up  that  grandpa  couldn't  shoot,  because 
if  he  had,  he  would  have  killed  both  of  them. 
They  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  ground,  the 
hawk  fighting  with  his  wings  and  claws  and  the 
old  hen  fighting  with  her  beak,  wings,  and  feet. 

"At  last  the  hawk  got  tired  of  fighting  such  a 
brave  old  hen,  and  flew  up  on  a  limb.  He  was 
going  to  stay  there  until  he  could  see  one  of  the 
little  chickens,  and  then  fly  down  right  sud- 


40  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

denly  and  get  it  before  the  old  hen  could  reach 
him.  The  old  hen  seemed  to  know  that,  too, 
and  to  realize  that  he  would  certainly  get  one 
this  time,  for  she  gave  a  cry  of  distress  that 
would  have  brought  help  if  any  brave  fowls  had 
been  near.  But  old  Mr.  Hawk  didn't  get  to 
look  for  any  chicken,  for  while  the  fight  was 
going  on  grandpa  had  his  gun  pointed  right  at 
him,  and  the  hawk  had  not  more  than  touched 
the  limb  before  grandpa  pulled  the  trigger. 
'Bang!'  went  the  gun,  and  down  tumbled  the 
hawk,  kicking  and  flopping  right  by  the  old  hen. 
As  soon  as  he  touched  the  ground  the  old  hen 
was  on  top  of  him  again. 

"He  was  too  near  dead  to  fight  back  any 
more,  and  pretty  soon  he  stretched  out  on  the 
ground  as  dead  as  a  door  nail.  The  old  hen  was 
still  pecking  at  him.  Then  she  stood  back  a 
little  and  looked  at  him.  She  thought  she 
had  killed  him,  but  she  was  so  mad  that  she 
kept  on  pecking  him  and  beating  him  with  her 
wings;  then  she  stopped  and  walked  all  around 
him.  She  was  the  proudest  hen  you  ever  saw. 
If  she  had  not  been  a  modest,  well-behaved 
sort  of  hen,  I  believe  she  would  have  crowed; 
but  as  it  was,  she  just  looked  at  the  hawk 
awhile  and  gave  him  a  few  more  pecks,  and  then 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  THE  HAWK.  41 

fussed  around  and  gathered  up  her  chickens  and 
walked  off  to  the  house  with  them." 

"Why,  papa,  weren't  the  little  chickens 
afraid  to  come  out  from  under  the  grass  and 
weeds  where  they  had  been  hiding?"  asked  the 
little  boy. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  papa.  "Just  as  soon  as 
the  old  hen  had  told  them  that  there  was  danger 
and  to  hide,  they  didn't  stop  to  ask  what  was  the 
matter  and  why  they  must  hide;  they  just  hid, 
and  did  it  quickly,  too;  if  they  hadn't,  why  one 
of  them  would  have  gone  up  through  the  air  in 
that  old  hawk's  claws.  And  then  when  she  told 
them  to  come  to  her,  they  did  it  right  away, 
without  any  questions  or  waiting." 

"Oh,  papa!  the  hen  couldn't  tell  them  all  of 
that,  now  could  she?  Hens  can't  talk." 

"Yes,  she  could,"  said  papa,  with  a  funny 
kind  of  smile.  "She  could  tell  them  all  of  that 
just  as  easily  as  your  mamma  could  tell  you." 

"Oh!  I  was  talking  about  the  hen,"  said  the 
little  boy,  twisting  around  in  his  seat. 

"Yes,"  said  papa,  "the  old  hen  makes  one 
kind  of  a  noise  that  means  one  thing  and  another 
kind  of  a  noise  that  means  another  thing,  and 
the  little  chickens  all  understand  her  perfectly; 


42  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

they  understand  just  as  soon  as  they  are  born, 
which  is  more  than  little  children  do.  Don't 
you  think  that  there  must  be  a  mighty  good  God 
somewhere,  Who  teaches  the  little  chickens  and 
things  to  take  care  of  themselves  that  way?" 

' '  Yes,  sir.     Then  what  did  she  do  ? " 

"Well,"  said  papa,  laughing  a  little,  "she 
kept  them  all  close  about  her  until  she  got  almost 
to  the  house,  clucking  and  ruffling  her  feathers 
up  and  turning  around,  looking  to  see  if  they 
were  coming,  and  every  once  in  a  while  knocking 
them  over  with  her  feet  and  stepping  on  them; 
and  then  after  she  got  them  home,  where  she 
knew  they  were  safe,  she  dropped  her  feathers 
all  close  to  her  sides  and  stuck  up  her  head  and 
said,  'Clack-kah-kah!'  That  was  because  she 
was  scared  and  excited.  Now  that  the  danger 
was  all  over,  she  was  just  beginning  to  think 
about  what  a  tight  place  she  had  been  in." 

"Wasn't  that  a  good  old  hen,  daddy?  Is 
that  all  about  her  ? " 

"Well,  yes;  but  suppose  that  when  she  told 
those  chickens  to  run  and  hide,  one  of  them 
had  said,  '  I  don't  want  to  hide,  I  want  to 
scratch;  what  do  you  want  me  to  hide  for?' 


OLD  TOPKNOT  AND  THE  HAWK.  43 

What  do  you  suppose  would  have  happened  to 
that— 

"I-e-e-yum!"  yawned  the  little  boy;  "'scuse 
me;  I  believe  it's  time  for  my  nap." 

"Yes,  that's  all.  Now  run  and  bring  me 
the  paper." 


LITTLE   BROTHER'S   CAT. 


ADDY,"    said   the  little  boy,    "didn't 


"Pi 

I    you  have  any  kittie  when  you  were  a 

little  boy?"  And  he  threw  his  tin 
horse  and  wagon  in  the 
corner  and  his  rag  doll  on 
top  of  them,  and  came 
and  stood  in  front  of 
papa  and  looked  up  at 
him.  "Say,  papa,  tell 
me  about  your  little  kit- 
tie."  And  by  the  time 
papa  had  laid  his  paper 
down  the  little  boy  was 
up  in  his  lap,  getting 
settled  in  a  good,  com- 
fortable place,  ready  to  hear  a  story. 

"Let  me  see,"  said  papa,  pretending  to  think 
real  hard;  "it  seems  to  me  that  we  used  to  have 
plenty  of  cats  on  the  farm,  but  they  didn't  do 
anything  but  sleep  and  steal  milk  and  chickens 
and  make  a  fuss  at  night." 


"And  then  we  giggled." 


44 


LITTLE  BROTHER'S  CAT.  45 

' '  Oh,  daddy !  tell  me  about  some  nice  kitties. ' ' 
"Well,  cats  don't  amount  to  much,  any  way," 
said  papa,  "but  I  do  remember  one  that  had 
almost  as  much  sense  and  loved  a  boy  almost 
as  much  as  an  ordinary  dog — not  as  much  as 
Shep,  of  course,  or  any  real  smart  dog,  but  just 
an  ordinary,  every-day  sort  of  a  dog. 

"When  your  Uncle  Ben  was  a  little  bit  of  a 
fellow,  smaller  than  you  are  now,  he  had  a  cat 
that  followed  him  everywhere.  One  time  he  got 
very  sick,  and  the  cat  couldn't  be  kept  out  of  the 
house  at  all.  One  night  the  poor  little  boy  was 
worse  than  usual,  and  grandpa  had  picked  him 
up  and  was  trying  to  walk  him  to  sleep.  Just 
as  soon  as  he  began  to  walk,  the  cat  began  to 
follow  him,  because  he  was  carrying  the  baby. 
Every  time  the  baby  would  cry  the  cat  would 
"M-e-o-w!"  as  if  it  wanted  to  help  take  care  of 
him.  For  a  long  time  the  cat  would  follow 
right  close  to  grandpa's  heels  and  sometimes 
rub  against  his  ankles.  Sometimes  when  he 
went  to  turn  to  start  back  across  the  room  the 
cat  would  rub  against  him  so  close  that  it 
almost  tripped  him;  then  it  would  stop  to  rub 
against  a  chair-leg  or  table-leg.  You  know  how 
cats  do:  it  would  rub  its  neck  against  a  chair  or 
table-leg,  then  raise  up  its  back  and  stick  its  tail 


46  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

straight  up  and  lean  against  the  leg  and  turn 
around  it  right  slowly  and  purr.  By  that  time 
grandpa  would  be  nearly  across  the  room  again, 
and  the  cat  would  miss  him  and  start  after  him 
as  fast  as  it  could  go;  then  it  would  try  to  rub 
against  grandpa's  ankles  again  and  would  some- 
times get  upset,  because  grandpa  wasn't  paying 
any  attention  to  the  cat  at  all. 

' '  I  was  playing  with  a  little  girl  who  was  vis- 
iting at  our  house,  and  Mary  and  Liz,  the  two 
black  girls,  were  playing  with  us  too.  We  were 
having  a  supper  for  our  dolls,  but  were  laughing 
so  much  at  grandpa  and  the  cat  that  I  'm  afraid 
the  dolls  didn't  get  fed  very  well.  The  more  we 
giggled  the  funnier  it  got,  and  we  had  to  stuff 
handkerchiefs  in  our  mouths  to  keep  from  laugh- 
ing out  loud — we  didn't  dare  to  do  that  for  fear 
of  waking  the  baby.  Grandpa  didn't  like  it 
much  because  we  were  giggling  so,  and  he  didn't 
know  that  we  were  laughing  at  him  and  the 
cat.  Every  now  and  then  he  would  give  us  a 
pretty  sharp  look,  and  that  would  make  it  all 
the  worse. 

' '  After  a  while  one  of  the  dolls  fell  over  with 
her  head  in  her  coffee-cup,  and  when  Mary  set 
her  back  in  her  chair  the  cup  still  stuck  to  her 
head.  'Set  up,  dah!'  said  Mary.  'Ain't  you 


LITTLE  BROTHER'S  CAT.  47 

got  no  manners  'tall?  goin'  to  sleep  heah  an' 
fallin'  ovah  in  yo'  cheah.'  Mary  gave  her  a 
good  shake,  but  the  coffee-cup  still  stuck  to  her 
head,  and  that  was  more  than  we  could  stand, 
and  we  all  broke  right  out  and  laughed  out  loud. 
Just  then  the  cat  made  another  run  to  catch  up, 
and  then  we  all  just  rolled  over  and  laughed. 
It  wasn't  much  to  laugh  at,  but  we  wanted  to 
laugh  all  the  more  because  we  knew  we  oughtn't 
to  do  it.  Then  the  baby  awoke  and  cried,  and 
grandpa  gave  us  two  or  three  more  good  hard 
looks  and  grandma  took  us  all  away  to  bed,  and 
one  of  the  crowd  got  a  little  spanking.  Grandpa 
didn't  say  a  word,  but  just  went  ahead  walking 
the  baby,  and  pretty  soon  everybody  was  asleep ; 
and  in  a  few  days  the  baby  was  as  well  as  ever, 
and  dragging  the  cat  around  by  the  tail." 


HUNTING  BEARS. 

"I    I"" U~ R— R!       U— u— rr!        Ou— uu— 

II  u — u!"  growled  the  little  boy,  as  he 
prowled  around  under  the  table  and 
clawed  at  papa's  legs. 

"There's  that  bear  again,  mamma.  I  '11 
have  to  feed  him  mighty  quick  now,  or  he'll 
eat  us  all  up.  Here,  old  bear,  take  this  now  and 
go  away  and  let  me  alone.  I  don't  want  you  to 
eat  up  mamma  and  me  and  my  little  boy. "  And 
papa  handed  the  bear  a  piece  of  chicken  wing 
under  the  table,  and  mamma  frowned  a  little 
bit  and  then  looked  resigned. 

"Now  please,  Mr.  Bear,  be  careful  and  don't 
get  any  grease  on  the  carpet,"  added  papa,  as 
as  if  he  would  like  mighty  well  to  please  mamma, 
but  was  very  much  afraid  he  would  offend  the 
bear. 

"  '  I  'oon't,';  said  the  bear  in  a  real  mild  way, 
and  soon  the  bear  was  out  from  under  the  table 
and  standing  by  papa's  side,  eating  the  chicken 
wing. 

48 


"FRO'  DOWN  YO'  GUN  EN  CLAM  ER  TREE. 


HUNTING  BEARS.  51 

"Let  me  tell  you  how  I  used  to  hunt  bears 
when  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  papa,  taking  the 
little  boy  up  in  his  lap.  Dinner  was  over,  and 
it  was  a  pretty  good  time  to  tell  stories,  anyway. 
The  little  boy  was  ready,  as  usual,  so  papa  began: 

"Away  off  in  one  corner  of  our  yard,  when 
I  was  a  little  boy,  there  was  a  big  grove  of 
sumac-bushes.  These  bushes  grew  up  close  to- 
gether and  about  six  feet  high  before  the  limbs 
began  to  spread  out;  then  the  limbs  with  their 
thick,  long  leaves  were  so  close  together  that 
hardly  a  single  sunbeam  could  get  through  to 
the  ground,  and  the  bushes  were  as  flat  and  level 
on  top  as  if  they  had  been  cut  off  with  a  great 
big  scythe.  Coming  down  the  pike  towards 
home  it  looked  like  a  big  dark  green  spot  all 
summer,  and  in  the  fall,  when  the  sumac  leaves 
were  red,  it  looked  like  a  great  big  red  carpet 
spread  out  there  on  the  green  grass.  When 
Henry  and  Jimmy  and  I  got  into  the  middle  of 
that,  we  couldn't  see  out  in  any  direction  and 
couldn't  see  a  bit  of  the  sky  above  us.  Of  course 
it  was  a  great  place  for  bears,  and  I  used  to  go 
bear-hunting  in  there  almost  every  day. 

' '  I  had  a  little  wooden  gun  that  grandpa  had 
made  for  me,  and  Henry  and  Jimmy  would  be 
the  bears,  and  they  would  hide  from  me  and  I 


52  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

would  always  find  them,  and  then '  Bang! '  would 
go  the  gun,  and  a  big  black  bear  would  fall  over 
dead  every  time.  I  most  always  made  them  be 
the  bears,  and  I  was  the  hunter.  I  suppose  I 
was  pretty  badly  spoiled  and  was  very  selfish, 
or  I  would  sometimes  have  been  the  bear  myself 
and  let  them  have  the  gun." 

' '  Didn't  you  ever  let  them  have  the  gun  and 
go  'Bang!'  at  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  once  in  a  great  while,  I  believe; 
but  I  'm  afraid  I  was  pretty  selfish. 

"One  time  Johnny — that  was  one  of  the  big 
negro  boys— went  out  in  the  grove  with  us,  and 
I  wanted  them  all  to  be  bears,  and  let  me  have  a 
big  bear-killing;  so  they  all  hid,  and  when  I 
found  them,  I  found  them  all  at  once.  They 
started  to  run,  and  I  threw  my  gun  up  to 
my  shoulder  and  said,  'Bang!  Bang!  Bang!' 
Henry  and  Jimmy  rolled  over  dead,  but  the 
other  bear  turned  around  and  came  right  after 
me.  'Bang!  Bang!'  I  said  again,  pointing  the 
gun  at  him.  '  Why  don't  you  fall  over  ? ' 

'  'They  ain't  no  gun  shoots  more  'n  two  times,' 
said  the  bear,  '  an'  you  done  killed  two  ob  'em  an' 
de  odder  one  gwine  eat  you  all  up.  Fro'  down  yo' 
gun  an'  clam  er  tree,'  yelled  the  bear  as  he  came 
humping  after  me  on  his  hands  and  feet.  I  saw 


HUNTING  BEARS.  53 

that  the  bear  was  right  and  that  I  had  more 
bears  on  hand  that  time  than  I  could  attend  to, 
so  I  threw  down  the  gun  and  made  for  a  big 
sumac-bush.  But  that  old  bear  was  bent  on 
mischief,  and  before  I  got  up  the  tree  he  had  me 
by  the  legs  and  pulled  me  down  and  ate  me  all 
up,  and  then  went  away  growling.  Then  the 
dead  bears  and  the  dead  bear-hunter  all  came 
to  and  went  away  together." 


THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE. 

I  ever  tell  you  about  the  old  goose 
that  made  her  nest  in  the  woodpile?" 
asked  papa  one  night,  when  he  and 
the  little  boy  had  been  talking  about  nests. 

"What  is  a  'woodpile' — just  a  little  pile  of 
wood?  How  could  a  goose  make  a  nest  in  a 
pile  of  wood?" 

The  little  boy's  idea  of  a  woodpile  was  con- 
fined to  what  he  had  seen  in  the  city,  and  he 
couldn't  think  of  a  woodpile  as  anything  but  a 
stack  of  hard  sawed  wood  without  any  of  the 
chips  and  sticks  and  rich  black  dirt  that  go  to 
make  up  a  country  woodpile.  Poor  little  boy! 
He  had  never  been  in  the  country. 

Papa  sighed  and  thought  hard  for  a  minute, 
for  he  knew  how  difficult  it  was  to  make  a  boy 
know  about  things  that  he  had  never  seen. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  papa, 
after  thinking  awhile,  "I  '11  tell  you  all  about  a 
country  woodpile  this  time  and  about  the  goose 
and  her  nest  next  time." 

54 


THE    HORSES    STARTED   AND    HE    FELL   OFF    BACKWARD. 


THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE.  57 

"Tell  me  about  both,  won't  you?  I  'm  not 
sleepy."  And  the  little  boy  hugged  up  closer  to 
his  father  and  put  both  arms  around  his  neck. 
Papa  had  taken  the  little  boy  in  his  own  bed 
to-night,  because  mamma  was  sick  in  the  other 
room. 

"Only  one  story  to-night.  We  will  save  the 
goose  story  for  to-morrow  night. 

"You  know,  that  in  Kentucky  there  are 
lots  of  forests — the  ground  all  covered  with 
big  trees.  I  Ve  told  you  about  them.  Well, 
when  I  was  a  little  boy,  we  didn't  burn  much 
coal;  we  used  wood  to  make  nearly  all  of  our 
fires.  The  country  folks  used  to  go  out  in 
the  woods  with  the  big  wagon  with  four  horses 
hitched  to  it  and  haul  great  big  loads  of  wood  up 
to  the  house.  They  didn't  trim  up  the  wood 
into  nice  even  sticks  out  in  the  woods;  they 
would  sometimes  haul  in  whole  big  limbs  with  a 
good  many  of  the  little  limbs  still  on  them. 
Sometimes  they  would  bring  limbs  longer  than 
the  wagon.  They  would  haul  hundreds  of  these 
limbs  and  sticks  and  then  load  after  load  of  big 
logs  as  long  as  the  wagon  and  as  big  around  as 
this,"  and  papa  put  up  his  arms  in  as  big  a  circle 
as  he  could  make  with  them.  "Well,  they 
would  haul  this  up  and  throw  it  out  in  a  great 


58  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

big  pile  somewhere  in  the  back  lot,  and  they 
would  throw  it  in  the  same  place  year  after 
year.  Sometimes  the  pile  would  cover  more 
ground  than  our  whole  yard." 

"Do  they  just  pile  it  up  out  doors?"  asked 
the  little  boy.  "Wouldn't  somebody  'teal  it?" 

"No,"  said  papa,  "not  out  in  the  country." 

"Don't  they  have  any  'tealin'  people  in  the 
country?" 

' '  Oh,  yes,  there  are  bad  people  in  the  coun- 
try, but  not  as  many  as  in  the  city;  and  then 
wood  is  too  plentiful  in  the  country  for  anybody 
to  steal;  they  can  get  all  they  want  for  nothing." 

"Wouldn't  it  rain  or  snow  on  the  wood?" 

"Yes;  but  we  used  to  have  a  long  shed  near 
the  woodpile,  and  when  the  wood  was  chopped 
up  for  the  stove,  it  was  piled  in  the  shed. 

"Who  sawed  it?" 

"We  didn't  saw  it;  we  chopped  it  with  an  ax, 
and  that  made  lots  of  chips,  especially  when  we 
chopped  the  big  logs  in  two.  Then,  when  I  was 
about  your  size,  I  used  to  go  out  with  Mary — 
you  know  who  Mary  was,  don't  you? — and  help 
her  fill  a  big  basket  with  the  chips,  and  we  kin- 
dled the  fires  with  them.  The  little  chips  that 
were  too  small  to  pick  up  just  lay  there  on  the 
ground  and  decayed  and  made  a  soft  black  dirt 


THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE.  59 

that  grandma  used  to  get  to  put  around  her 
flowers — just  the  same  kind  that  we  got  out  of 
the  old  hollow  stump  in  the  park — don't  you 
remember? — to  plant  your  flowers  in." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  'member,"  said  the  little  boy, 
taking  a  fresh  hitch  around  papa's  neck  with  his 
soft  little  arm. 

"Why  didn't  they  cut  the  wood  up  'way 
out  in  the  woods,  so  the  chips  and  dirt  wouldn't 
be  in  the  back  lot  ? "  asked  the  little  boy. 

' '  Well, ' '  said  papa,  "  I  '11  tell  you.  That  was 
because  it  was  easier  to  haul  the  wood  in  big 
sticks  than  in  little  ones,  and  you  know  if  it  had 
been  chopped  up  away  out  in  the  woods,  lots  of 
the  chips  would  have  been  wasted.  And  then 
the  farmers  liked  to  have  the  wood  near  the 
house,  so  that  whenever  they  or  their  hired  men 
got  out  of  work,  they  could  just  step  out  to  the 
woodpile  and  chop  wood.  For  instance,  when 
Uncle  John  got  up  in  the  morning  and  fed  the 
horses  and  pigs  and  milked  the  cows,  then,  if  his 
breakfast  wasn't  ready,  he  could  step  right  out 
to  the  woodpile  and  chop  wood.  You  see,  he 
couldn't  go  away  out  to  the  woods  to  chop,  be- 
cause by  the  time  he  got  there  he  would  have  to 
come  right  back  to  breakfast.  Then  sometimes 
grandpa  would  chop  a  little  wood,  and  grandma 


60  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

would  sit  on  a  big  log  and  watch  him.  If  he 
hadn't  had  the  big  sticks  in  the  lot  close  to  the 
house,  he  couldn't  have  had  grandma  with  him 
when  he  was  working. 

"Sometimes  when  there  was  a  big  snow  the 
men  wouldn't  do  much  all  day  but  feed  the  stock 
and  chop  wood.  Then,  when  I  got  to  be  a  big 
boy,  I  used  to  get  my  sled  and  have  two  or  three 
of  the  little  colored  boys  to  help  me,  and  we 
would  haul  the  nice  sticks  to  the  kitchen  and  put 
them  in  the  big  wood-box,  and  then  the  men 
would  cut  off  a  big  log,  and  we  would  haul  it  to 
the  house  for  a  back-log  for  the  big  fireplace  in 
the  dining  room.  And  when  I  was  a  little  bit 
of  a  boy  like  you,  the  colored  children  used  to 
put  me  on  the  sled  and  haul  me  to  the  woodpile, 
and  then  load  the  sled  and  put  me  on  top  of  it 
with  a  whip,  and  they  would  all  pull.  I  re- 
member once  I  had  four  of  them  for  a  team,  and 
they  pretended  they  couldn't  pull  the  sled,  and 
I  pretended  to  whip  them  with  the  whip,  and 
then  they  kicked  and  squealed,  and  one  of  them 
lay  right  down  in  the  snow,  as  old  black  Fanny 
used  to  do  when  she  didn't  want  to  pull." 

"Did  you  whip  'em,  daddy?" 

"No,  I  just  pretended  to  be  whipping  them, 
as  I  had  seen  one  of  our  neighbor's  drivers  do. 


THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE.  61 

Then  I  got  off  the  sled  and  went  around  and 
patted  all  my  horses  and  talked  to  them  and 
fixed  the  harness,  as  I  had  seen  grandpa  do. 
Then  I  got  back  on  the  sled  and  took  up  the 
lines  and  said,  '  Whoa,  boys!  Now,  get. up! '  and 
they  all  pulled  and  away  they  went,  and  the 
driver  went  off  backwards  in  the  snow  with  his 
little  legs  flying  in  the  air,  and  all  the  horses 
unhitched  themselves  and  ran  around  and  picked 
up  the  driver  and  brushed  the  snow  off,  and 
Mary,  who  had  been  old  Till,  the  lead-horse, 
hugged  him  up  and  asked  him  if  he  was  hurt, 
and  then  she  scolded  Johnny,  who  was  old  Kit, 
the  saddle-mare,  for  starting  too  suddenly.  But 
the  driver  was  laughing,  if  he  did  have  snow 
down  his  back  and  up  his  sleeves,  and  he  got  on, 
and  away  they  went  again,  Mary  saying:  '  Now 
you  go  studdy  thah,  Kit;  you  always  goin'  by 
jumps  anyhow.  Ef  you  aint  a-flyin'  forrid  too 
sudden,  you  's  a-flyin'  back.  You  jes'  as  ap'  t' 
break  a  breas'  chain  ez  you  is  a  singletree.  Dey 
got  you  in  de  right  place,  Johnny,  dey  is.  You 
jes'  'zackly  like  ol'  Kit  fer  all  de  worlY 

"And  if  we  hadn't  reached  the  kitchen  door 
about  that  time  and  had  other  troubles,  the 
lead-mare  and  the  saddle-horse  might  have  un- 
hitched themselves  and  taken  a  fall  out  of  each 


62  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

other  in  the  snow;  but  Aunt  Nina  met  us  at  the 
door  about  like  this:  'Go  on  out  o'  heah,  you 
niggahs.  I  jes'  scrubbed  dis  flo',  an'  you  shan't 
come  trompin'  in  heah  lak  a  pack  o'  hosses  wid 
all  dat  snow  an'dirt  on  you;  an'  what  you  been 
a-doin'  to  dat  chile?  Lawd  bress  my  soul, 
honey!'  and  she  grabbed  me  up  and  carried  me 
to  the* stove.  '  Bress  my  soul!  dese  yere  niggahs 
jes'  gib  you  yo'  death  o'  col'  a-wollerin'  you 
'roun'  in  dis  snow.  I  '11  whup  evah  las'  one  uv 
'em,  I  will.' 

"But  while  she  was  coddling  me,  Mary 
and  Johnny  and  Henry  and  Jimmy  unloaded  the 
stove  wood,  and  it  wasn't  five  minutes  before  I 
was  back  at  the  woodpile,  with  all  my  horses 
tied  up  in  the  stable,  which  we  made  in  a  great 
opening  under  a  big  forked  limb  that  had 
brush  and  wood  on  top  of  it  and  that  all  cov- 
ered thick  with  snow.  A  lot  of  leaves  had  blown 
under  there  before  the  snow  came,  and,  together 
with  broken  twigs  and  chips  and  soft  black 
dirt,  made  it  quite  a  warm  stable. 

"  By  the  way,  that  was  the  sort  of  a  place  the 
old  goose  made  her  nest  in.  We  almost  forgot 
that  goose,  didn't  we?  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  that 
to-morrow  night.  It 's  time  you  were  asleep. 


THE  COUNTRY  WOODPILE.  63 

It 's  been  so  long  since  you  said  your  prayers 
you  '11  have  to  say  them  again,  won't  you? " 

"My!"  said  the  little  boy,  with  a  long  sigh, 
' '  didn't  boys  in  the  country  have  a  lot  of  ways 
to  have  fun?" 

And  in  a  minute  he  was  asleep  and  dreaming 
of  a  sled  with  a  pile  of  wood  on  it  as  high  as  a 
house  and  drawn  by  four  little  negroes  with 
horses'  heads,  and  a  little  boy  on  top  of  the 
wood  with  red  mittens  on  his  hands  and  a  big 
gray  goose  for  a  cap;  and  papa  could  tell  ex- 
actly when  the  little  boy  fell  off  of  the  sled  in 
his  dreams  by  the  start  and  chuckle,  for  by 
that  time  the  dream  had  reduced  the  size  of  the 
load  of  wood  from  as  high  as  a  house  to  about  as 
high  as  the  little  boy  himself,  and  it  only  made 
him  laugh  out  in  his  sleep  when  he  fell  off  in 
the  snow. 


"N 


THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST. 

OW,  DADDY,  tell  me  about  the  old 
goose  that  built  her  nest  in  the  wood- 
pile," said  the  little  boy,  climbing  on 
his  father's  lap  and  getting  his  tow-head  be- 
tween papa  and  the  even- 
ing paper. 

"All  right,"  said  dad- 
dy. "Goose  stories  and 
little  boys  are  better  than 
newspapers  any  day. 

"Well,  one  time, 
along  about  the  first  of 
March,  when  there  was 
still  snow  on  the  ground 

and  the  wind  was  blowing  cold,  one  of  grand- 
ma's old  geese  waddled  along  by  the  woodpile. 
She  went  on  past  it  first,  and  then  she  seemed  to 
think  she  had  forgotten  something  and  came 
waddling  back.  She  walked  slowly  around  the 
woodpile,  poking  her  long  neck  in  between  the 
logs  and  limbs.  She  was  talking  low  to  herself 


"Oh,  yes,  it  was  a  fox." 


64 


THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST.  65 

all  the  time.  '  Clack,  clack,  clack,  gabble,  gabble, 
gabble,'  she  said  over  and  over  a  good  many  times, 
which  I  suppose  meant:  'This  looks  like  a  good 
place  to  make  a  nest.  I  think  I  '11  look  around 
a  little,  and  maybe  I'll  settle  here.'  'Clack, 
clack,  clack-k-k,'  she  said  again,  drawing  her 
head  back  out  of  an  opening  under  a  limb. 
'  That 's  too  little ;  that  won't  do  at  all. '  Finally 
she  found  a  larger  opening  right  between  two  big 
logs  that  had  a  lot  of  limbs  over  them  and  back 
of  them — just  such  a  place  as  I  stabled  my  four 
black  horses  in,  but  not  nearly  so  big.  Well, 
that  old  goose  poked  her  head  in  there  and 
cocked  her  eye  up  on  one  side  and  looked  all 
around  in  the  opening;  then  she  ducked  her 
head  down  to  dodge  the  limbs  and  went  in. 
There  were  some  small  broken  sticks,  some  chips, 
and  quite  a  lot  of  dry  leaves  piled  up  against  the 
logs,  and  old  Mrs.  Goose  pushed  them  around 
with  her  strong  bill,  and  went  outside  again 
to  look  at  it;  then  she  waddled  off  a  little  way 
to  the  water-trough  and  said  something  in  a  real 
low  voice  to  the  old  gander,  and  they  both 
started  off  to  the  woodpile  again. 

"She  led  the  old  gander  straight  to  her  new 
house  and  looked  in,  and  then  stood  back  and 
let  him  look  in.  He  was  so  much  pleased  that 


66  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

he  said  something  real  complimentary  right 
away;  then  he  went  in  and  tried  the  nest;  then 
he  came  out,  and  they  both  talked  at  once. 
They  stretched  their  long  necks  out  toward  each 
other  and  put  their  breasts  down  almost  to 
the  ground  and  gabbled  until  you  would  have 
thought  that  if  they  were  really  talking  they 
couldn't  possibly  understand  what  was  being 
said.  I  suppose  the  old  gander  was  telling  the 
goose  that  she  was  about  the  smartest  goose  that 
ever  lived  and  a  lot  of  such  nonsense,  and  the 
old  goose  was  telling  him  just  how  she  happened 
to  find  it  and  how  nice  a  place  it  would  be." 

"Can  geeses  talk  to  each  other,  daddy?" 
asked  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  I  don't  know — nobody  knows;  but 
they  can  let  each  other  know  about  things  in 
some  way,  for  all  animals  and  birds  can.  For 
instance,  when  an  old  hen  is  out  in'the  yard  with 
her  brood  of  chickens  and  finds  a  nice  lot  of 
worms  or  bugs,  she  makes  a  certain  noise,  and 
all  the  little  chickens  run  to  her  with  their  wings 
flapping  and  their  eyes  shining;  then,  after  a 
while,  the  old  hen  sees  a  hawk  sailing  through 
the  air,  and  she  makes  another  kind  of  noise, 
and  all  the  little  chickens  fall  down  on  the 
ground  and  hide  under  the  leaves  and  grass. 


THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST.  67 

"But  I  '11  tell  you  how  the  old  goose  and 
gander  talked  to  each  other.  They  stood  bow- 
ing and  stretching  out  their  necks  and  gabbling 
and  every  now  and  then  raising  up  their  wings 
to  emphasize  what  they  said.  Finally  they  went 
away. 

"A  few  days  later  grandpa  was  cutting 
wood,  when  he  happened  to  look  in  the  open- 
ing between  the  logs,  and  what  do  you  think 
he  saw?  Three  great,  big  goose  eggs,  almost 
covered  up  with  sticks  and  leaves.  He  was 
just  about  to  pull  the  roof  off  of  old  Mrs. 
Goose's  house  and  cut  it  up  into  stovewood,  but 
he  saw  the  eggs  in  time,  and  did  not  disturb  a 
single  stick;  then  he  told  the  black  men  where 
the  nest  was  and  told  them  not  to  use  any  wood 
near  it.  Pretty  soon  old  Mrs.  Goose  had  ten 
nice,  big,  white  eggs  in  her  nest — that  is,  the 
eggs  would  have  been  white  if  they  hadn't  been 
so  dirty;  but,  you  know,  the  nest  wasn't  any- 
thing but  a  little  hollow  in  the  black  dirt  with  a 
few  small  sticks  and  chips  and  leaves  in  it. 
Every  time  the  old  goose  laid  an  egg  she  would 
cover  it  all  up  with  sticks  and  leaves.  Well, 
when  she  got  ten  eggs  in  the  nest,  she  concluded 
that  she  would  sit  on  them  until  she  hatched  out 
ten  little  geese.  Little  geese  are  called  goslings, 


68  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

you  know.  So  she  sat  right  still  on  the  eggs  all 
day  and  all  night  and  kept  them  warm  with  her 
thick,  soft  feathers.  The  old  gander  slept  on 
the  sticks  and  chips  near  by  with  his  head  under 
his  wing,  and  every  time  a  dog  or  anything  came 
near,  he  set  up  such  a  clatter  and  hissing  that 
grandpa  said  if  that  old  gander  didn't  quit 
making  so  much  fuss,  he  would  put  him  in  a  pen 
somewhere  all  by  himself;  but  grandma  said 
that  the  gander  was  so  good  and  faithful  to  the 
old  goose  that  she  would  not  let  him  be  dis- 
turbed. Well,  every  morning  when  the  old 
gander  would  wake  up  he  would  go  to  the  nest 
and  stick  his  head  in  and  gabble  and  the  old 
goose  would  gabble  back  at  him.  I  suppose  he 
would  say: 

"  'Good  morning,  Mrs.  Goose,  flow  did  you 
spend  the  night  ? ' 

"  'Oh,  nicely,  thank  you,'  old  Mrs.  Goose 
would  say.  'I  slept  nearly  all  night  and  felt 
perfectly  safe,  for  I  knew  you  were  outside 
keeping  watch.  How  did  you  sleep  ? ' 

"  '  Oh,  pretty  well,'  answered  old  Mr.  Gander. 
'I  was  disturbed  a  little;  I  saw  a  fox  go  across 
the  yard,  but  I  scared  him  away.' 

"  '  Oh,  my! '  said  Mrs.  Goose  with  a  start. 


THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST.  69 

"  'Don't  be  afraid,'  said  Mr.  Gander.  'I 
scared  him  away  all  right.' 

"  'Maybe  it  was  the  cat,'  suggested  Mrs. 
Goose. 

"  'No,  I  am  sure  it  was  a  fox,'  said  Mr. 
Gander,  and  then  he  changed  the  subject." 

"Oh,  now,  daddy!  they  didn't  say  all  that 
sure  enough;  do  you  think  they  did ? " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know;  all  I  know  is  that  they 
did  a  lot  of  gabbling,  and  from  the  way  the  old 
gander  raised  his  wings  and  took  on,  they  might 
have  been  saying  that  very  thing. 

"Well,  after  a  while  the  old  gander  would 
come  up  to  the  back  kitchen  door.  If  there 
wasn't  anything  there  to  eat,  he  would  call  back, 
'Honk,  honk';  then  the  goose  would  answer 
him.  After  a  while  Mammy  would  throw  out  a 
lot  of  scraps  and  maybe  some  corn;  then  the  old 
gander  would  call  out  in  a  different  tone,  '  Honk, 
honk,  honk,'  and  then  the  old  goose  would  an- 
swer and  come  flying.  I  suppose  the  old  gander 
said:  'Come  on,  come  on,  old  lady;  here  is  some 
breakfast.'  And  the  old  goose  would  say:  'All 
right,  all  right;  I  'm  coming.  Save  some  for  me, 
for  I  'm  hungry.'  Then  the  old  goose  would  eat 
and  get  a  drink  of  water  and  go  back  to  her  nest. 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you  about  the  time  I  went  to 


70  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

peep  in  at  old  Mrs.  Goose.  She  stuck  out  her 
head  and  went  this  way  at  me."  (Here  papa 
stuck  out  his  tongue  and  hissed  as  much  like  a 
goose  as  he  could.)  "I  got  back  a  little,  but 
here  came  old  Mr.  Gander  with  his  head  stuck 
out  and  hissing  in  the  same  way;  then  he  gave  a 
big  squawk  and  grabbed  the  back  of  my  trousers 
in  his  mouth  and  flapped  me  with  his  wings, 
and  I  screamed  and  the  old  goose  squawked,  and 
grandma  came  running  and  shoved  the  old 
gander  away,  and  then  she  just  sat  down  on  a 
log  and  laughed.  I  didn't  go  back  any  more. 

"Well,  one  morning,  just  four  weeks  from  the 
time  the  old  goose  went  to  sitting,  we  heard  a 
great  commotion  among  the  geese  out  at  the 
woodpile.  Your  grandma  took  me  by  the  hand 
and  went  out  there,  and  what  do  you  think  we 
saw?  Why,  nine  little  yellow,  fluffy  goslings, 
the  prettiest  little  things  you  ever  saw." 

"Why  weren't  there  ten  goslings?  There 
were  ten  eggs." 

1 '  Well,  one  of  the  eggs  didn't  hatch.  Maybe 
the  old  goose  got  careless  some  cold  night  and 
let  that  egg  get  out  from  under  her  warm  feath- 
ers, or  maybe  she  forgot  to  turn  that  one  over 
for  two  or  three  days.  Did  you  know  that  when 


THE  OLD  GOOSE'S  NEST.  71 

the  old  goose  is  sitting  on  her  eggs,  she  turns  all 
of  them  over  every  day  ? " 

"What  does  she  do  that  for?" 

"Well,  that  is  done  so  that  all  the  inside  of 
the  eggs  will  not  settle  down  to  one  side  and 
spoil,  and  so  both  sides  of  the  eggs  will  get  the 
moisture  from  the  ground  and  the  warmth 
from  the  goose's  breast." 

"How  does  she  turn  them  over ? " 

"Just  with  her  bill." 

"Now,  daddy,  sure  enough,  does  a  goose 
know  enough  to  do  all  that?" 

"Well,  honey,  I  don't  know  whether  the 
goose  knows  why  she  does  it  or  not;  but  God 
made  the  goose  that  way  and  gave  her  what  we 
call  'instinct,'  instead  of  sense  and  reason,  and 
she  does  all  these  things  and  does  them  right. 
because  God  directs  everything  she  does." 

"Oh,  my!"  said  the  little  boy  with  a  sigh. 
"God  must  be  awful  busy.  But  I  wonder  why 
He  didn't  make  her  hatch  out  that  other  egg?" 

Just  then  mamma  broke  into  the  story,  and 
said  something  to  papa  that  the  little  boy  didn't 
understand,  about  getting  into  deep  water. 
Then  she  laughed  and  papa  laughed;  then  he 
said: 

"Well,    now,    about    those    little    goslings. 


72  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

They  looked  like  little  balls  of  yellow  fur,  each 
with  a  yellow  bill  and  two  yellow  feet  sticking 
out,  and,  just  above  the  bill,  a  pair  of  the  round- 
est, blackest  little  eyes  you  ever  saw;  and  they 
waddled  about  so  cute,  and  made  the  sweetest 
little  noise  talking  to  their  mamma." 

"How  do  they  go — ' Peep,  peep,'  like  a  little 
chicken?" 

"No,  indeed;  but  I  can't  go  like  a  little  gos- 
ling; I  might  try,  but  it  wouldn't  sound  a  bit 
like  one." 

"Try,  won't  you,  daddy?" 

But  papa  didn't  try.  He  only  promised 
again  to  take  the  little  boy  to  the  country  some- 
time, where  he  could  see  and  hear  the  little  gos- 
lings for  himself;  and  about  that  time  the  little 
boy  went  to  sleep. 


THE   NEST  OLD  TOPKNOT  MADE. 


"N 


OW,  tell  me  how  an   old   hen   makes 
her  nest,"  said  the  little  boy.     "You 
said  you  would." 
"Well,"  said   daddy, 

"an  old  hen   doesn't 

make    her    nest    at    all, 

as    a    general    thing. 

Sometimes  a  hen  will  go 

out    in    the    weeds    and 

grass   and  hollow  out   a 

nest   in   the   ground   by 

scratching,  and  then 

scratch  some  dry  grass  in 

it  and  even  put  some  in 

with  her  bill,  if  she  finds 

it  right  by  the  side  of  the  place  she  has  selected 

for  the  nest;  but  she  never  uses  any  material 

but  what  she  can  reach  from  the  nest,  and  never 

carries  any  straw  or  anything  to  it.     She  will 

make  a  nest  in  a  fence-corner  on  the  bare  ground, 

when  there  is  a  bunch  of  dry  grass  all  around 

78 


'What  a  fine  nest  I've  made  I" 


74  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

her,  and  not  use  a  bit  of  it  in  her  nest.  A  hen 
will  make  a  nest  in  the  hay-mow  up  in  the  stable 
loft,  of  course,  but  she  has  to  use  the  hay  there, 
for  there  is  nothing  but  hay.  The  old  tame  hens 
that  stay  about  the  house  always  use  nests  that 
have  been  made  for  them;  but  it 's  the  funniest 
thing  in  the  world  to  see  an  old  hen  think  she  is 
making  a  nest. 

"One  day,  when  I  was  a  little  fellow,  I  was 
sitting  on  the  porch  with  my  father,  and  old 
Topknot  came  along  through  the  yard.  Every 
now  and  then  she  would  pick  up  a  straw  or  a 
piece  of  dry  grass  in  her  bill  and  throw  it  over 
her  back;  then  she  would  go  along  a  few  steps 
and  pick  up  another  piece  and  throw  that  over 
her  back.  Pretty  soon  she  stopped  and  looked 
back.  Then  she  stood  on  one  foot  awhile  and 
then  walked  on,  throwing  a  straw  over  her  back 
every  time  she  came  to  one. 

"  'What  is  that  old  hen  doing  that  for?'  I 
asked. 

"  'She  thinks  she  is  making  a  nest,'  said 
grandpa.  'She  forgets  that  she  walks  a  few 
feet  between  every  two  straws  that  she  finds, 
and  that  the  straws  are  just  as  far  apart  when 
she  gets  through  as  they  were  when  she  began; 


THE  NEST  OLD  TOPKNOT  MADE.  75 

but  watch  me  make  her  think  she  has  made  a 
fine  nest.' 

"Just  then  old  Topknot  disappeared  around 
the  big  stone  chimney  of  the  cabin.  Then 
grandpa  got  a  barrel  in  a  hurry  and  turned  it 
down  in  the  chimney-corner.  Then  he  put  a 
narrow  board  across  the  bottom  of  the  open  end 
of  the  barrel,  and  drove  two  stakes  down  to  hold 
the  board  and  barrel  in  place.  Then  he  got 
some  nice,  clean,  yellow  straw  from  the  stable 
and  put  it  in  the  barrel  and  rounded  it  into  a 
nice  nest,  with  some  of  the  straw  sticking  out  of 
the  barrel.  Then  he  placed  an  egg  in  the  nest. 

"  'Now,'  he  said,  'let 's  watch  her.' 

' '  Pretty  soon  the  old  hen  came  back  around 
the  house,  still  picking  up  and  throwing  over  her 
back  the  same  old  straws  she  had  thrown  before. 
Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  she  saw  the  nest,  and  tip- 
toed over  to  the  barrel  and  stretched  out  her 
neck  and  looked  in. 

"My!'  said  grandpa.  'What  a  smart  hen 
I  have  been  to  make  such  a  splendid  nest  and 
lay  such  a  fine  egg!  I  don't  just  remember 
when  I  laid  it,  but  it  's  all  right.' 

"Grandpa  said  that  just  as  if  he  were  the  old 
hen  talking,  and  we  both  laughed.  Then  the 


76  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

old  hen  went  in  and  did  a  big  lot  of  scratching 
around,  and  before  long  we  heard  a  great  cack- 
ling out  there,  and  I  went  out  and  there  was  a 
new  egg  in  the  barrel.  And  that  was  old  Top- 
knot's barrel  until  after  she  hatched  out  that 
gang  of  ducks  I  was  telling  you  about." 


WADING  IN   THE   BRANCH. 


DADDY>  this  is  a  g°od  time  for 
'Tucky  'tones.    'Ittie  boy  likes  'Tucky 

'tories."  And  the  little  boy  hugged 
up  so  close  to  papa  that  the  pillow  which  mamma 
threw  fell  across  both  heads  and  stopped  all  the 
talking  for  a  minute. 

"Now,  mamma,"  said  the  little  boy,  drop- 
ping the  baby  talk  that  he  always  used  when 
asking  for  stories,  "you  made  us  stop;  now 
you  are  throwing  pillows."  And  the  little  boy 
laughed  and  tried  to  get  hold  of  the  pillow  to 
throw  back. 

"Oh!  did  that  pillow  hit  you  angels  over 
there?  I  just  laid  it  on  the  bed  —  from  across 
the  room  —  I  hope  it  didn't  break  off  any  wings; 
let  's  see."  And  they  each  got  a  pinch  which 
would  have  started  another  romp  if  mamma 
hadn't  skipped  out. 

"Now  go  on,  daddy;  tell  a  dood  'tory." 

The  little  boy  wasn't  a  baby  any  longer,  and 


77 


78  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

only  talked  baby  talk  when  he  was  asking  for 
stories. 

"Well,"  said  papa,  "I  was  about  your  age — 
just  about  five — when  one  day  Henry  and  Jim- 
my and  I  were  running  about  the  yard  trying  to 
find  something  new  to  do.  Finally  we  played 
around  until  we  got  down  to  the  spring-house, 
away  off  under  the  hill.  Then  we  climbed  the 
fence  into  the  branch  lot.  We  called  it  the 
branch  lot,  you  know,  because  two  branches  ran 
through  it.  One  little  branch  ran  out  of  the 
spring-house,  and  through  the  little  culvert 
under  the  lane  and  went  into  the  big  branch, 
which  ran  from  away  off  on  the  next  farm  and 
through  the  big  culvert  under  the  turnpike." 

"What  is  a  'culvert'?" 

"Why,  it  is  a  stone  bridge  under  a  road. 
You  can  see  the  big  one  and  the  little  one  both 
in  the  picture  over  there  on  the  wall. 

"Well,  'Pig'  and  'Pokey'— I  mean  Henry 
and  Jimmy,  but  we  sometimes  called  them  '  Pig ' 
and  'Pokey';  I  '11  tell  you  about  that  some- 
time— well,  we  played  along  the  little  branch, 
putting  sticks  in  it  for  boats,  and  damming  up 
the  water  to  make  little  ponds,  until  we  reached 
the  big  branch.  The  little  branch  was  so  little 
that  we  could  step  across  it,  and  the  water  was 


"GOOD  LAWDY  !    WHAT'LL  MAMMY  SAY?" 


WADING  IN  THE  BRANCH.  81 

just  about  deep  enough  to  cover  'Pig's'  big 
black  foot  when  he  stepped  in  it.  'Pig'  and 
'Pokey'  were  both  barefooted,  while  I  had  my 
shoes  and  stockings  on.  Sometimes  '  Pig '  would 
put  both  of  his  black  feet  in  and  '  Pokey '  would 
put  both  of  his  feet  in  and  make  a  dam  across 
the  stream;  and  all  that  time  I  had  to  stand  on 
the  bank  and  watch  the  other  boys  having  fun 
that  I  couldn't  have  because  I  wasn't  bare- 
footed. Well,  when  we  reached  the  big  branch, 
I  tell  you  it  was  nice.  The  water  from  the  little 
branch  fell  into  the  big  one  over  a  little  bank 
and  made  just  the  sweetest  noise,  and  a  little 
further  down  the  big  branch  there  were  some 
rocks  sticking  up  out  of  the  water  and  the  water 
running  against  these  rocks  made  another  kind 
of  a  pretty  noise." 

' '  How  did  it  sound — like  the  water  running 
in  the  bath-tub?"  interrupted  the  little  boy. 

"Oh,  my!"  answered  papa,  with  a  pained 
expression.  "You  town  people  really  excite  my 
compassion — that  is,  you  know,  I  am  real  sorry 
for  you,  you  know  so  little.  Why,  that  was  as 
much  prettier  and  sweeter  music  than  the  bath- 
tub splash  as  mamma's  piano  is  sweeter  than 
Rosie  scraping  the  dishpan.  The  water  just 
bubbled  and  splashed  and  gurgled,  and  it  looked 


82  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

white  on  top,  and  pretty  little  drops  flew  up  in 
the  air  when  it  struck  the  rocks.  Oh!  it  was 
pretty,  I  tell  you;  but  we  were  so  used  to  seeing 
it  and  hearing  it  that  we  didn't  pay  much  at- 
tention to  it;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  never  did 
realize  just  how  nice  it  was  until  this  minute 
when  I  am  telling  about  it.  You  know,  some- 
times the  very  nicest  and  best  things  that  we 
have  seem  to  come  to  us  so  naturally  and  we  get 
so  used  to  having  them  that  we  don't  know  they 
are  nice  until  we  don't  have  them  any  more; 
then  we  begin  to  miss  them  and  wish  that  we 
had  enjoyed  them  more  when  we  did  have  them. 

"Well,  we  played  along  the  branch,  watching 
our  little  boats  run  against  the  rocks  or  whirl 
around  in  the  whirlpools,  and  then  we  came  to  a 
place  where  the  branch  was  wider  and  the  water 
ran  smoothly  over  a  big  flat  green  rock.  The 
rock  looked  green  because  it  had  moss  on  it." 

"  How  big  was  the  rock,  dad?" 

"  Well,  just  about  as  wide  and  as  long  as  that 
rug — say  about  six  by  ten  feet.  It  may  have 
been  wider,  but  that  was  as  wide  as  the  branch 
was.  You  know  there  may  have  been  more  of 
the  rock  under  the  dirt  that  made  the  banks  of 
the  branch. 

"Well,  sir,  the  water  looked  so  smooth  and 


WADING  IN  THE  BRANCH.  83 

clear  and  nice  that  Henry  got  right  in  it  with  his 
old  black  feet  and  then  Jimmy  followed  him. 
They  had  their  pants  rolled  up  to  their  knees —  • 
little  boys  wore  long  pants  in  those  days — and 
the  water  came  up  just  above  their  ankles.  It 
looked  so  nice  that  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was 
sitting  down  on  the  bank,  pulling  off  my  shoes 
and  stockings.  You  know  it  was  real  early  in 
the  spring,  and  grandma  had  not  yet  let  me  go 
barefooted  any.  The  next  thing  I  knew  I  was 
paddling  in  the  water  with  the  little  negroes. 
The  rock  was  nice  and  smooth  and  felt  good  to 
our  feet.  We  took  hold  of  each  other's  hands, 
with  me  in  the  middle,  and  started  down  the 
stream.  Directly  we  came  to  a  place  where  the 
moss  was  thicker  and  we  stuck  our  toes  in  it  and 
had  a  fine  time.  Then  the  first  thing  you  know 
my  feet  slipped — they  went  right  up  out  of  the 
water,  and  as  we  all  had  hold  of  hands,  that  made 
the  other  boys'  feet  slip,  and  down  we  all  sat 
right  in  the  water.  You  ought  to  have  seen  us 
scramble  out  of  there.  Henry  put  his  hands 
back  and  felt  to  see  how  wet  he  was,  and  then 
Jimmy  and  I  put  ours  back.  We  were  wet 
enough,  I  tell  you,  and  the  water  began  to 
trickle  down  our  legs  and  made  us  feel  mighty 
sorry. 


84  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"'Good  Lawdy!'  said  Henry.  'What  11 
mammy  say  ? ' 

"  '  You  went  in  fust,'  said  Jimmy. 

' '  Then  they  both  helped  me  to  put  my  shoes 
on,  and  we  went  to  the  house.  We  sneaked 
around  to  the  back  door  of  the  kitchen. 
Mammy  Maria  was  washing,  and  when  she  saw 
us  come  in,  she  looked  right  hard  at  her  two 
boys,  because  she  thought  we  had  been  up  to 
some  mischief.  We  wanted  to  get  behind  the 
stove,  you  know,  and  get  dry,  but  Mammy  Maria 
watched  us  so  closely  that  when  we  got  past  her 
we  backed  toward  the  stove  to  keep  her  from 
seeing  the  wet  places.  When  we  went  to  back- 
ing, although  we  thought  we  were  doing  it  in  a 
very  innocent  and  natural  sort  of  way,  she  knew 
something  was  wrong,  so  she  grabbed  Henry  by 
the  collar  and  jerked  him  around  to  the  light. 

"  'What  you  niggahs  up  to  now?'  she  said. 
'Tu'n  'roun'  heah!  My  gracious  erlive,  ef  dey 
ain't  been  a-settin'  down  in  de  brainch!' 

"And  she  gave  the  wet  place  on  Henry's 
pants  a  spat  that  sounded  like  a  big  wet  towel 
struck  against  the  wall  and  made  him  jump  clear 
behind  the  stove  at  one  jump.  Jimmy  got  one 
just  like  it,  then  she  turned  to  me.  I  was  stand- 


WADING  IN  THE  BRANCH.  85 

ing  there,  laughing  at  the  others.  She  gathered 
me  up  in  her  arms  and  said: 

"  'Nevah  min',  honey.  Mammy  jes  git  you 
'nothah  paih  o'  breeches,  an'  de  missus  nevah 
know  nuffin'  'bout  it;  an'  I  git  you  some  clean 
stockin's,  too,  an'  make  dese  yeah  niggahs  brack 
yo'  little  shoes.' 

"And  in  a  little  while  I  was  sitting  behind 
the  stove,  eating  pie,  while  Henry  and  Jimmy 
were  standing  with  their  backs  to  the  stove, 
eating  pie  too. 

"  'Goodness!  You  eats  a  heap  o'  pie  fo'  one 
little  boy,'  said  Mammy  Maria,  after  I  had 
gone  for  the  third  piece.  'Now  don't  you  go 
an'  gib  dem  niggah  chill'n  no  pie — cawn  braid 
plenty  good  ernough  fo'  dem.'  ' 

"Is  that  all,  daddy?  Oh!  wake  up,  now. 
You  know  you  are  snoring  just  for  fun.  What 
made  you  call  them  'Pig'  and  'Pokey'?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  papa,  waking  with  a  start. 
"One  time  we  had  a  party,  and  had  all  the  dolls 
and  cats  invited,  and  while  we  were  gathering 
up  the  guests,  Henry  came  in  and  ate  up  every 
bit  of  the  party.  Then  grandma  gave  us  a  lot 
more  cookies  and  things  for  the  party,  and  Henry 
and  Mary  and  Liz  and  I  ate  them  all  up,  and  after 
it  was  all  over,  here  came  Jimmy  with  a  cat 


86  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

under  one  arm  and  a  pet  chicken  under  the 
other,  so  we  called  Henry  'Pig'  and  Jimmy 
'Pokey.'" 

"Say,  dad,  that  was  a  bully  one,  wasn't  it? 
Say,  did  Henry  and  Jimmy  and  'Pig'  and — 
and — "  But  the  little  boy  fell  asleep  just  then, 
and  pretty  soon  papa  was  asleep  too. 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW. 

«T~X  ADDY,"  said  the  little  boy  one  night, 

I     as   he   was    being   tucked    into   bed, 

"  I  'm» almost  six  years  old;  don't  you 

know  I  am?" 


•AND  WATCHED  IT  AS  IT  CUT  THROUGH  THE  SOD." 


"In  just  about  two  months  now  you  will  be 
six,  '  answered  papa.  "Why,  are  you  beginning 
to  feel  old?" 

"Wouldn't  it  take  about  two  months  to  pick 
out  a  pony  ? "  asked  the  little  boy,  sitting  straight 


87 


88  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

up  in  bed  and  pulling  the  covers  loose  that  papa 
had  just  tucked  in.  "You  know  grandpa  is 
going  to  get  me  a  pony  when  I  am  six.  Say, 
daddy,  did  you  have  a  pony  when  you  were  six 
years  old?  Tell  me  about  it.  Did  you  have  a 
little  saddle  too?" 

"Well,  now,"  said  papa,  "you  do  take  me 
back  to  old  times.  I  remember  the  day  I  got 
that  first  saddle  as  well  as  if  it  were  yesterday. 
Grandpa  had  gone  to  town  on  horseback,  and  I 
knew  he  was  going  to  bring  home  something  for 
me,  so  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  out  in  the 
yard  or  on  the  big  side  porch,  looking  up  the 
pike  to  see  him  when  he  first  came  in  sight  of  the 
house.  Well,  I  watched  and  watched,  and  along 
in  the  afternoon  here  he  came  jogging  down  the 
pike  on  his  horse,  and  what  do  you  think  he  had 
on  his  arm?  Why,  the  prettiest  little  saddle 
that  you  ever  laid  your  eyes  on.  The  seat  was 
made  of  red  leather  and  all  stitched  with  pretty 
yellow  thread,  and  the  skirts  were  brown.  It 
had  a  red  blanket  fastened  to  the  under  side  of 
it  and  a  red  girth.  The  stirrups  were  pretty 
iron  ones,  and  as  grandpa  jogged  along,  the  stir- 
rups bobbed  up  and  down  and  shone  in  the  sun. 
I  was  so  tickled  that  I  ran  all  the  way  down  to 
the  big  yard  gate  to  meet  him.  I  climbed  up  on 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW.  89 

the  fence,  and  grandpa  put  the  little  saddle 
down  in  front  of  him  across  his  horse's  shoul- 
ders, and  then  he  took  me  off  the  fence  in  his 
arms  and  put  me  on  the  new  saddle,  and  held  me 
to  keep  me  from  falling  off.  I  rode  up  to  the 
house  in  that  way,  and  was  about  the  proudest 
boy  in  the  world. 

1 '  As  soon  as  grandpa  rested  a  little  he  put  the 
saddle  on  old  Phoebe — that  was  our  old  black 
mare — and  fixed  the  stirrups  so  they  would  fit 
me,  and  let  me  ride  around  by  myself.  I  must 
have  been  a  good  deal  younger  than  you  are  now, 
for  I  couldn't  guide  the  horse  very  well,  and  the 
first  thing  I  knew  she  was  walking  right  under  a 
big  apple-tree.  There  was  a  big  limb  just  high 
enough  for  her  to  walk  under,  and  she  ducked 
her  head  and  went  right  under  it.  I  pulled  at 
the  bridle,  but  couldn't  stop  her,  and  the  limb 
dragged  me  right  off  over  her  tail.  I  jumped  up 
squalling,  but  I  wasn't  hurt  much,  and  old 
Phoebe  went  right  along  eating  grass,  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened.  Grandpa  came  running  and 
asked  me  if  I  was  hurt. 

'"I  bet  my  saddle's  just  scratched  all  to 
pieces,'  I  blubbered.  'Old  Phoebe 's  just  as 
mean  as  she  can  be.' 

"  But  the  new  saddle  was  not  hurt  a  bit,  and 


90  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

I  was  soon  happy  again,  standing  in  front  of 
it  where  grandpa  had  hung  it  on  the  porch, 
and  showing  it  to  the  little  negro  boys;  and  the 
next  time  I  went  riding  I  let  them  take  turn 
about  with  me  riding  on  it." 

"Was  that  the  first  time  you  ever  rode  on  a 
horse?" 

"No,  indeed;  I  had  been  riding  ever  since  I 
was  a  baby.  I  believe  I  remember  about  the 
first  time  I  ever  rode  on  a  horse.  Grandpa  put 
a  pillow  in  front  of  him  on  his  saddle  and  set  me 
on  the  pillow  and  let  me  hold  the  bridle  reins. 
I  used  to  want  to  ride  that  way  every  time  I  saw 
him  riding  through  the  yard.  I  was  as  fond  of 
that  as  you  used  to  be  of  riding  on  the  street- 
cars. I  suppose  I  learned  that  before  I  was  old 
enough  to  talk,  and  then  after  I  got  bigger  I 
used  to  stand  up  on  the  saddle  in  front  of 
grandpa  and  balance  myself  by  putting  my 
hands  on  his  shoulder.  I  would  ride  all  over 
the  farm  in  that  way." 

' '  Didn't  you  ever  fall  off  ? " 

"No,  I  don't  remember  ever  having  fallen  off 
when  I  was  riding  with  grandpa;  I  remember  one 
fall  I  got,  though,  after  I  grew  to  be  a  big  boy. 
One  day  there  were  seven  of  us — three  negro 
boys  and  four  white  boys — all  on  one  horse,  old 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW.  91 

Kit.  We  were  packed  like  sardines  all  the  way 
from  old  Kit's  neck  to  her  tail.  We  got  along 
pretty  well,  and  were  laughing  and  yelling  and 
having  a  fine  time  until  the  boy  at  the  back  end 
of  the  line  tickled  the  boy  in  front  of  him.  The 
boy  that  was  tickled  humped  up  his  back  and 
jumped,  and  the  boy  behind  him,  who  didn't 
have  much  room  anyway,  fell  off.  He  grabbed 
the  next  boy  and  that  boy  grabbed  the  next,  and 
so  on  clear  up  to  the  front,  and  the  whole  string 
of  us  fell  off,  each  one  holding  to  the  one  in  front 
of  him,  and  the  front  boy  holding  to  old  Kit's 
mane,  and  all  yelling  like  a  lot  of  young  Indians. 
We  fell  on  the  soft  grass  in  a  heap,  some  on 
top  of  the  others  and  some  sprawling  out  on  the 
ground.  The  grass  was  nice  and  soft,  though, 
and  nobody  was  hurt. 

"I  '11  tell  you  how  I  used  to  like  to  ride. 
When  grandpa  was  out  plowing,  I  liked  to  ride 
on  the  plow.  We  never  used  anything  but  old- 
fashioned  plows  in  those  days,  so  grandpa  walked 
behind  the  plow  and  guided  it  by  holding  the 
handles,  and  the  big  iron  plowshare  turned  the 
ground  over  in  front  of  him.  The  plowshare, 
you  know,  is  the  iron  part  that  cuts  the  ground 
and  turns  it  over.  I  '11  take  you  down  to  one  of 
the  implement  houses  some  day  and  show  you 


92  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

some  plows.     I  suppose  that  will  do  until  we 
can  get  out  into  the  real  country. 

"One  day  grandpa  was  plowing  in  the  old 
meadow,  and  as  it  was  just  back  of  the  garden  I 
went  up  there  to  see  him.  The  ground  was  nice 
and  smooth  and  didn't  have  any  rocks  or  stumps 
in  it — at  least  not  many.  I  walked  along  beside 
grandpa  for  a  while,  and  then  he  said,  'Whoa!' 
The  horses  stopped,  and  grandpa  picked  me  up 
and  put  me  on  the  plow,  setting  me  on  one  of  the 
rounds  between  the  handles  with  my  feet  resting 
on  the  lowest  round  just  above  the  plowshare. 
'  Now,  hold  on  tight,'  he  said,  and  started  up  the 
horses.  It  was  a  nice  seat.  I  could  sit  there 
with  my  hand  on  grandpa's  hand,  and  I  always 
felt  safe  when  I  was  near  him.  Right  under  me 
the  bright  plowshare  was  cutting  through  the 
sod  and  turning  it  over  in  nice  rows.  It  was 
springtime,  and  every  once  in  a  while  he  would 
plow  under  a  nice  little  wild  flower.  The  poor 
little  flower  would  go  face  down  in  the  furrow, 
and  the  black  dirt  that  had  been  under  it  would 
be  turned  on  top  of  it.  I  felt  real  sorry  for  the 
little  flowers  and  the  nice  young  grass,  but 
grandpa  said  that  maybe  the  same  little  flower 
roots  would  go  to  sleep  in  the  ground  and  grow 
up  again  next  year,  when  the  field  was  in  grass 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW.  93 

again.  Once  he  plowed  up  a  little  ground 
mouse's  nest.  There  were  five  or  six  little  bits 
of  mice  in  it,  and  when  the  sod  was  turned  over 
the  young  mice  were  thrown  sprawling  out  on 
the  plowed  ground.  The  plow  had  torn  their 
nice  warm  fur  nest  all  to  pieces,  and  they  looked 
as  if  they  would  be  mighty  cold  after  coming  out 
of  such  a  warm  nest.  The  little  old  mother 
mouse  ran  off,  scared  almost  to  death,  but 
grandpa  said  she  would  gather  up  the  little  ones 
and  make  a  new  nest  for  them. 

"After  a  while  the  plow  turned  out  a  lot  of 
little  white  balls  that  looked  like  marbles.  '  Oh» 
papa!'  I  said,  nearly  falling  off  of  my  seat,  'get 
them  for  me,  won't  you?' 

"  'Whoa!'  said  grandpa.  'Do  you  know 
what  they  are?  They  are  snake's  eggs.'  And 
grandpa  got  a  rock  and  mashed  all  of  them. 
'There  are  snakes  enough  around  here  now,' 
said  grandpa,  as  he  mashed  the  last  egg. 

' '  I  knew  that  everybody  killed  snakes  when- 
ever they  found  them,  so  I  knew  that  it  was 
right  for  grandpa  to  break  the  eggs. 

"We  hadn't  gone  far  before  I  saw  something 
right  in  front  of  the  plow  that  looked  like  a  big 
snake. 


94  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"  'Oh,  look,  look,  papa!'  I  cried,  pulling  up 
my  feet  as  high  as  I  could  get  them. 

"  '  Whoa! '  said  grandpa  again,  and  the  horses 
stopped.  'Now  what  have  you  found?' 

"  'Just  look!  It 's  a  big,  brown  snake!'  I 
said,  pointing  at  it  as  it  lay  still,  right  by  old 
Logan's  feet. 

"  'That 's  a  snake  skin,'  said  grandpa,  turn- 
ing it  over  with  his  foot.  It  broke  in  two  when 
he  turned  it  over,  and  I  settled  back  in  my  seat 
again,  for  I  knew  now  that  it  couldn't  hurt  me. 

"  'Well,  where  is  the  snake?'  I  said.  'Is 
it  dead?' 

"  '  No,  sir,'  said  grandpa,  and  he  sat  down  on 
the  plow  beside  me  and  let  the  horses  rest  while 
he  told  me  about  the  way  snakes  shed  their 
skins. 

'You  know,'  said  grandpa,  'that  when 
winter  comes  and  it  gets  cold,  the  snakes  all 
hunt  some  warm  place  to  stay  until  warm 
weather  comes  again.  Some  of  them  get  in 
stone  fences,  some  in  hollow  trees,  and  some  go 
in  holes  in  the  ground.  They  stay  there  and 
sleep  all  winter,  and  their  skins  turn  brown  and 
hard  and  a  new  skin  grows  on  Mr.  Snake  under 
the  old  one.  When  spring  comes,  and  the  old 
snake  begins  to  get  warm,  he  crawls  out  in 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW  95 

the  sun.  He  feels  stiff  and  awkward  in  his 
old  dead  skin,  but  pretty  soon  he  works  around 
in  it  and  loosens  it  and  then  crawls  out  of  it 
altogether,  looking  as  black  and  sleek  as  a  brand- 
new  wagon- whip — that  is,  the  black  snakes  look 
that  way  and  the  striped  and  spotted  ones  look 
as  if  they  had  been  freshly  painted  and  var- 
nished. This  fellow  was  a  black  snake,  and  a 
big  one  too.  Well,  when  the  snake  gets  out  of 
his  old  skin,  he  crawls  up  on  a  log  or  a  rock  or 
something  where  the  sun  can  shine  on  him,  and 
lies  there  and  suns  himself,  for  he  is  pretty  chilly 
when  he  first  comes  out.' 

"Then  grandpa  got  up  to  go  to  plowing,  but 
he  stopped  short,  and,  pointing  to  a  big  old 
stump  near  by,  said: 

"  'Well,  just  look  at  that,  will  you?  Wait 
till  I  get  a  stick.'  I  looked  where  he  pointed, 
and  sure  enough  there  lay  the  old  snake  on  top 
of  the  stump,  sunning  himself. 

"  ' Oh,  papa!  papa! '  I  yelled.  '  Kill  him!  kill 
him!' 

"  'Don't  you  have  a  fit  now  and  scare  him 
away,'  said  grandpa  quietly;  'sit  still  until  I  go 
down  to  the  fence  and  get  a  stick.'  Grandpa 
never  got  excited  about  anything  and  never  said 
any  bad  words;  he  never  even  said,  '  Oh,  gee! ' 


96  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

The  little  boy  looked  up  and  laughed  a  funny 
little  laugh,  and  papa  went  on  with  the  story: 

"Well,  grandpa  came  back  with  a  big  stick, 
and  Mr.  Snake  never  knew  what  hit  him. 

"We  went  ahead  plowing,  and  had  gone  but 
a  round  or  two  more  when  we  plowed  up  a 
mole." 

"What  is  a 'mole'?" 

"What  is  a  mole?  Why,  didn't  you  ever 
see  a  mole?  You  town  boys  don't  know  any- 
thing, do  you?" 

"Go  on,  daddy;  tell  me  about  it." 

' '  Well,  a  mole  is  a  little  animal  about  as  big 
as  a  rat  and  about  the  same  color,  but  his  fur  is 
finer  and  sleeker.  His  legs  are  so  short  that  he 
can  hardly  run  at  all,  and  he  can  see  but  a  very 
little  bit;  that  is  because  he  lives  under  ground. 
Moles  burrow  along  just  under  the  ground,  and 
eat  roots  and  corn  and  anything  they  can  find. 
Sometimes  when  we  plant  corn  they  come  along 
and  eat  it,  and  they  spoil  lots  of  corn  crops  in 
the  country.  When  they  are  going  along  under 
the  ground  they  keep  close  to  the  top  and 
push  up  a  row  of  dirt  just  above  their  holes. 
Sometimes  you  can  see  the  dirt  moving,  and 
you  know  that  a  mole  is  under  there;  then 
you  can  take  a  shovel  and.  if  you  are  quick, 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW.  97 

you  can  shovel  Mr.  Mole  right  out  of  the  ground. 
This  old  mole  was  in  pretty  hard  luck,  for 
grandpa  put  his  boot-heel  on  his  head  and  said: 
'There,  now!  You  won't  eat  any  more  of  Mahs 
Ben's  corn.' 

"The  next  thing  that  we  plowed  up  was  a 
bees'  nest,  but,  as  it  was  early  in  the  spring,  the 
bees  were  not  wide  enough  awake  to  sting  us. 
That  reminds  me  of  another  time  late  in  the 
summer  when  we  plowed  up  a  live  bees'  nest — 
no,  it  was  a  yellow  jackets'  nest." 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,  the  plow  turned  the  nest  over,  and 
the  yellow  jackets  came  swarming  out  and  stung 
the  horses;  they  started  to  run,  and  grandpa 
held  on  to  them  until  they  got  away  from  the 
nest.  I  wasn't  on  the  plow  that  time,  or  I  might 
have  been  hurt.  Well,  the  next  time  the  plow 
came  around  grandpa  went  around  the  nest, 
and  didn't  plow  near  them  any  more  until  they 
got  settled;  then  he  threw  some  straw  on  the 
nest  and  set  fire  to  it,  and  that  finished  the 
yellow  jackets." 

"Tell  me  more  about  riding  around  on  the 
plow,"  said  the  little  boy;  "I  like  that.  Did 
you  plow  up  any  more  things?" 

"No;  but  I  11  tell  you  about  something  that 


98  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

we  didn't  plow  up.  Once  I  noticed  a  stick 
standing  up  in  the  ground  just  ahead  of  us,  and 
when  grandpa  got  near  the  stick  he  turned  out 
his  horses  and  drove  clear  around  it,  and  left  a 
little  patch  of  ground  not  plowed. 

"  '  What  did  you  do  that  for  ? '  I  asked. 

"  'Whoa!'  said  grandpa.  'Come  back  here 
and  I  '11  show  you.' 

' '  And  he  pointed  to  a  place  right  by  the  stick 
that  looked  like  a  hole  in  the  ground,  filled  with 
dry  grass  and  a  little  soft  fur  of  some  kind  stick- 
ing up  through  it.  Grandpa  lifted  up  the  dry 
grass  with  the  stick,  and  in  a  nest  of  fur  were  six 
little  young  rabbits.  As  soon  as  they  were  un- 
covered they  all  began  to  squeal.  They  thought 
it  was  their  mother  coming  to  them. 

"  'Don't  touch  them,'  said  grandpa,  as  I 
started  to  pick  up  one.  'The  old  rabbit  would 
know  the  minute  she  got  back  to  them  that 
somebody  had  been  here,  and  would  move  them 
to  a  new  nest.' 

"  'How  would  she  know  it?'  I  asked. 

"  'She  can  tell  by  smelling  them  if  anybody 
has  even  touched  the  nest,'  said  grandpa;  'and 
then  she  would  move  them  as  soon  as  it  got 
dark.' 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW  99 

"  'Is  that  the  reason  you  moved  the  grass 
with  a  stick  ? ' 

'  Certainly,'  said  grandpa.  '  Now  let 's  cov- 
er them  up  again, '  and  he  pushed  the  grass  back 
over  them  with  a  stick. 

' '  I  asked  grandpa  if  he  was  not  going  to 
plow  that  piece  of  ground,  and  he  said  he  would 
come  back  and  plow  it  when  the  little  rabbits 
had  gotten  big  enough  to  run  away.  Grandpa 
was  good  to  everything.' 

' '  He  must  have  been  a  mighty  good  daddy, ' ' 
said  the  little  boy,  "but  he  wasn't  a  bit  better 
than  my  daddy.  Did  you  ride  on  the  plow 
any  more?" 

"Yes,  I  rode  around  several  times  more,  and 
we  plowed  up  some  more  mice  and  bugs  and 
worms  and  cocoons." 

"What  kind  of  coons?"  asked  the  little  boy. 

"No,  not  coons.     I  said  cocoons." 

' '  What  are  they  ?     Tell  me  about  them. ' ' 

"Oh!  they  are  just  worms  that  wrap  them- 
selves up  in  a  sort  of  silk  when  the  summer  is 
gone,  and  get  in  the  ground  and  go  to  sleep,  and 
next  spring  they  wake  up  as  butterflies." 

"Where  do  they  get  the  silk?  Tell  me  all 
about  them." 

"Oh!  that  would  be  a  dry  story.  Get  mam- 
ma to  explain  that  to  you  sometime." 


100  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"Goodness!"  said  the  little  boy.  "Do  you 
always  plow  up  that  many  live  things?" 

"  No,  not  always.  I  '11  tell  you  how  so  many 
little  animals  happened  to  be  living  in  that  par- 
ticular piece  of  ground.  It  was  an  old  meadow. 
A  meadow,  you  know,  is  a  field  that  we  raise  hay 
on,  and  hay  or  any  kind  of  grass  does  not  have 
to  be  sowed  every  year,  but  the  roots  live  all 
winter,  and  the  grass  grows  up  again  next 
spring;  then  when  it  gets  high  and  ripe  we  cut  it 
and  make  hay  of  it;  in  the  fall  the  grass  has 
had  time  to  grow  up  tolerably  high  again,  and 
when  the  cold  weather  comes  it  turns  brown 
and  dry  and  falls  over  and  makes  a  good  place 
for  the  little  animals  and  things  to  make  their 
nests  and  keep  warm;  then  in  the  spring  again 
the  nice  tender  grass  and  roots  are  good  to  eat 
and  make  a  good  place  to  hide  in.  This  old 
field  had  been  in  grass  a  long  time,  and  the  little 
wild  things  had  been  living  there  for  a  good 
many  years.  That  was  a  fine  old  meadow. 
Sometime  I  '11  tell  you  what  fun  we  boys  had  in 
haying-time  in  that  old  field." 

"What  else  did  you  plow  up  that  day, 
daddy?" 

' '  I  believe  that 's  all,  except  that  we  turned 
under  lots  of  nice  young  grass  and  clover  and 


RIDING  ON  THE  PLOW.  101 

little  wild  flowers.  I  was  very  sorry  for  them, 
and  sat  still  on  the  plow  a  long  time  thinking 
about  it.  As  the  plow  cut  through  the  tender 
grass  and  roots,  the  sweetest,  freshest  smell 
came  up,  and  then*when  the  soft,  black  ground 
fell  over  them,  the  smell  of  the  fresh  earth  and 
of  the  flowers  and  grass  together  was  just  fine. 
Did  you  ever  smell  the  fresh  dirt  just  plowed 
over  away  out  in  the  country?  Of  course  you 
didn't.  Well,  you  can't  begin  to  imagine  how 
nice  it  is  until  you  go  to  the  country  and  find 
out  for  yourself. 

"Pshaw!  old  man,  let  's  go  to  sleep.     I  'm 
just  lying  here  making  myself  homesick." 


EATING  GRAVEYARD  BLACKBERRIES. 

ONE  TIME  Henry  and  Jimmy  and  I  were 
in  the  big  locust  grove,  eating  black- 
berries. The  locust  grove  was  directly 
across  the  turnpike  from  the  house  and  on  the 
highest  point  of  the  farm.  It  was  in  one  corner 
of  a  big  field  that  was  nearly  always  in  blue- 
grass  or  meadow.  The  finest  blackberries  I  ever 
saw  grew  in  that  locust  grove;  some  of  them 
were  as  big  as  the  end  of  my  thumb,  and  they 
were  as  soft  and  sweet  as  they  could  be.  Well, 
we  ate  blackberries  until  we  couldn't  hold  any 
more.  Our  faces  and  hands  were  just  covered 
with  blackberry  stain.  We  had  eaten  so  much 
that  it  began  to  hurt  us  under  our  little  jackets, 
and  we  sat  down  on  a  big  rock  to  rest.  We  were 
talking  about  snakes  and  bears,  and  what  we 
would  doaf  a  sure-enough  bear  should  come,  and 
had  just  about  concluded  that  it  was  time  to 
go  home.  It  was  pretty  wild-looking  in  there 
anyway,  and  we  had  just  begun  to  notice  that 
the  trees  were  so  thick  that  the  sun  couldn't 

102 


"  EN  HEAH  YOU  ALL'S  A-SETTIN'  ON  TOP  o'  DEY  BONES  !  " 


EATING  GRAVEYARD  BLACKBERRIES.     105 

shine  through  at  all;  then  under  the  trees  the 
tall  blackberry  bushes  and  the  weeds  made  it 
thick  and  close,  and  a  boy  could  hardly  walk  for 
catching  his  feet  in  the  grass  and  weeds.  Just 
then  we  heard  something  coming  towards  us. 

"  Le's  go  home,"  said  Jimmy. 

"Pshaw!"  said  Henry.  "I  don't  believe 
dar  's  any  beahs  eroun'  heah,  an'  der  hain't  no 
ve'y  big  snakes  neither.  I  got  'nough  black- 
be'ies,  though,  an'  I  jes'  as  soon  go  home.  I 
'specks  mammy  wants  some  stove  wood  ca'ied  in 
by  dis  time,  anyhow." 

"  'Tain't  nothin'  but  Unca'  Jim  Speaks," 
I  said,  peeping  out  between  the  bushes.  ' '  You 
boys  is  all  time  afraid  of  beastes  of  some  kind  or 
'nother.  I  wasn't  afraid." 

Just  about  that  time  Uncle  Jim  saw  us  and 
stopped.  He  had  a  big  water-bucket  on  each 
arm  and  a  quart  tin  cup  in  one  of  the  buckets. 

"What  you  chillen  doin'  heah?"  he  said, 
stopping  short  and  looking  at  us;  "  'way  off 
from  de  house  an'  in  dis  heah  wilderness  o'  un- 
derbresh  an'  sich,  'mongst  de  hants  an'  eveh- 
thing.  Didn't  you  chillen  know  dis  heah  was  a 
graveyahd?"  he  asked,  walling  up  his  eyes  and 
looking  solemn.  ' '  An'  heah  you  is  a-settin'  right 
on  top  o'  somebody's  bones  on  dey  headstone!  I 


106  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

'speck  dem  bones  kinder  oneasy  anyhow,  'caise 
de  haidstone  done  fall  obah  on  top  ob  'em.  You 
bettah  git  off'n  dat  stone.  You  hev  hants  all 
eroun'  you  in  'bout  er  minit." 

Old  Jim  looked  so  solemn  that  our  hair  began 
to  stand  up  straight  and  cold  chills  crept  up  our 
backs,  and  we  got  off  that  stone  and  stood 
before  the  old  negro  like  three  little  criminals. 

"Goodness  gracious  me!"  said  old  Jim,  look- 
ing as  if  he  was  astonished  almost  to  death. 
"What's  dat  you  boys  got  on  yo'  han's  an' 
moufs?  You  sholy  hain't  been  eat  in'  de  black- 
be'ies  what  growed  off'n dese  heah  daid  people! " 

"W'y — w'y — we  got  'em  'way  over  yonder," 
I  said,  pointing  to  a  fine  patch  a  little  way  off. 

"Laws  a-massy!"  groaned  old  Jim,  "an' 
dat  's  'zackly  whah  dat  Johnson  niggah  wuz 
be'ied  what  died  wid  de  smallpox.  W'y,  some 
o'  de  people  be'ied  in  dis  heah  place  died  wid 
de  cholery,  an'  dese  heah  blackbe'ies  growin' 
right  up  off'n  dey  bones,  dey  is.  You  chillen  's 
lierble  to  staht  a  plague  o'  some  kin'  right  heah 
in  dis  neighborhood.  You  bettah  run  home  jes' 
ez  quick  ez  you  kin  an'  take  a  big  spoonful  o' 
ve'mifuge  an'  put  distemfectum  on  yo 'selves." 

Jimmy  was  crying  by  this  time,  and  Henry's 
eyes  were  sticking  out  with  all  the  white  showing 


EATING  GRAVEYARD  BLACKBERRIES.    107 

and  looking  as  if  they  could  be  scraped  off  his 
face  with  a  shingle.  I  was  scared,  too,  but  I 
thought  that  maybe  we  could  take  something 
that  would  keep  us  from  being  sick,  so  I  said: 

"Come  on,  let 's  go  home.  I  don't  believe 
we  've  got  no  cholery  nor  smallpox  neither. 
Let 's  get  a  drink  down  there  at  the  spring,  and 
maybe  it  '11  wash  us  out  real  good." 

"What  spring?"  said  Uncle  Jim,  looking 
more  horrified  than  ever.  "Dat  spring  down 
undahdehill?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  weakly.  "We  got  a  good 
drink  there  just  a  while  ago. 

"Dat  spring?  Dat  spring?"  yelled  Uncle 
Jim,  pointing  to  the  spring.  "Don'  you  know 
dat  de  watah  what  cum  out  o'  dat  spring  runs 
troo  dis  heah  groun'  fust  an'  trickilates  right 
froo  de  daid  people's  bones  'fore  hit  gits  to 
de  spring?  Good  Lawd  a-massy!  de  onliest 
hope  I  had  dat  you  boys  wouldn't  die  fum  eatin' 
dese  heah  blackbe'ies  was  dat  de  watah  had 
washed  all  de  cholery  an'  smallpox  an'  quick 
consumpshun  out'n  de  bones  an'  down  to  dat 
spring.  You  run  home  ez  quick  ez  you  kin  an' 
take  dat  ve'mifuge,  or  der  likely  to  be  er  eper- 
dermic  break  out  in  dis  heah  neighbo'hood  'fore 
to-morrow  night." 


108  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

That  was  enough  for  us,  and  by  the  time 
Uncle  Jim  had  got  through  we  were  all  crying 
and  running  for  home.  We  went  straight  to 
Mammy,  who  was  out  in  the  back  yard  picking 
four  Dominecky  chickens,  and  demanded  verm- 
ifuge. We  felt  like  our  little  insides  were  full  of 
all  the  diseases  that  a  person  ever  died  with,  and 
we  would  have  taken  anything  that  we  thought 
would  do  us  any  good. 

"What  in  de  name  o'  goodness  you  chillen 
want  wid  vermifuge  ? ' '  asked  Mammy.  ' '  What 's 
done  happened  to  you,  anyway?" 

"Quick,  Mammy!  Give  us  the  vermifuge, 
and  we  '11  tell  you  afterwards,"  I  said.  "I  feel 
kinder  sick  right  now." 

' '  What  you  chillen  been  a-doin'  ? ' '  shrieked 
Mammy,  getting  real  excited.  "You  been  a- 
playin'  wid  wild  pa'snips,  or  eatin'  Injun  tur- 
nips, or  dem  fool  toadstools  de  city  folks  a- 
projeckin'  wid  ?  Tell  me  quick,  or  I  '11  gib  you 
some  physic  'at  '11  tu'n  you  wrong  side  out'ards." 

"Oh,  we  been  a-eatin'  blackbe'ies!"  blub- 
bered Henry,  "dat  growd  off'n  daid  peoples  up 
in  de  locus'  grove!" 

"Yes,  an'  drinkin'  out'n  de  old  Johnson 
spring  what  de  watah  runs  right  froo  de  coffins," 
slobbered  Jimmy. 


EATING  GRAVEYARD  BLACKBERRIES.     109 

"Uncle  Jim  said  they  died  wif  de  cholery 
an'  the  smallpox  an'  consumption  an'  some  of 
'em  was  killed  in  the  war,  an'  we  'd  die  ever  one 
o'  them  ways  if  we  didn't  take  something  quick," 
I  added. 

Mammy  Maria  just  wilted  right  down  on  a 
big  rock  and  looked  as  if  she  had  lost  her  breath. 
Then  she  looked  as  if  she  would  laugh,  and  then 
she  looked  mad. 

"Did  dat  ol'  fool  niggah  tell  you  chillens  all 
dat  nonsensicalness  ?  Drat  dat  ol'  high-hipped, 
long-jawed,  flat-headed,  blue-gummed  Guinea 
niggah!  He  all  de  time  scarin'  somebody  what 
he  ain't  'feared  ob.  Heah,  I  '11  gib  you  sumpin' 
what  '11  fix  you  all  right  in  a  minit,  an'  don't  you 
be  skeered  now,  'cause  Mammy  knows  all  about 
it.  Dem  blackbe'ies  ain't  gwine  to  hu't  you 
a  bit." 

So  she  gave  us  some  water  with  a  little  soda 
in  it,  and  loosened  our  waists  right  over  where 
we  had  stored  the  blackberries  and  water,  and 
told  us  to  go  lie  down  on  the  porch. 

"She  didn't  say  the  watah  wouldn't  hu't  us," 
said  Jimmy.  "But  I  don't  feel  half  as  much 
like  I  had  de  cholery  ez  I  did  erwhile  ago." 

Pretty  soon  we  all  went  to  sleep,  and  when 


110  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

we  awoke  we  saw  grandpa  coming  up  from  the 
gate,  so  away  we  went  to  ask  him  about  it. 

"Did  old  Jim  tell  you  that?"  said  grandpa, 
smiling.  "I  thought  he  looked  a  little  sheepish 
just  now,  when  I  met  him  going  out  of  the  grove 
with  two  big  buckets  of  blackberries.  I  saw  him 
stop  at  the  spring,  too,  and  get  a  big  drink  of 
water,  and  from  the  looks  of  his  mouth  he  had 
eaten  as  many  blackberries  as  he  had  in  his 
bucket.  Maybe  he  wanted  all  of  the  blackber- 
ries for  himself,  or  didn't  want  you  boys  in  the 
way  and  tramping  down  the  bushes. 

"Go  on  and  eat  all  of  the  blackberries  you 
want  out  of  the  locust  grove;  they  won't  hurt 
you.  I  believe  I  would  come  back  home  to  get 
a  drink  though.  I  don't  think  the  water  in  the 
old  Johnson  spring  is  very  good,  anyway." 


THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST. 

46  1~"X  ID  I  ever  tell  you  about  how  the  tur- 
I  keys  made  their  nests?"  asked  daddy 
one  night  when  the  little  boy  asked 
for  a  story. 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  little  boy,  and  he  hugged 
up  close,  just  as  usual  when  he  expected  a  good 
story. 

"Well,  now,  are  you  sure  that  you  know  the 
difference  between  turkeys  and  the  other  fowls  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  little  boy  eagerly. 
"The  old  gobble  turkey  goes  this  way,"  and  the 
little  boy  hopped  up  in  bed,  spread  his  fingers 
out  and  put  them  down  by  his  side,  and  gave  a 
pretty  good  imitation  of  a  strutting  turkey 
gobbler.  "  Isn't  dat  right?"  he  asked,  proud  to 
know  about  the  old  gobble  turkey. 

"Yes,  that 's  the  way  the  old  gobble  turkey 
goes;  but  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  the  old 
hen  turkey  when  it  is  springtime  and  she  begins 
to  think  about  making  her  nest  to  lay  her  eggs 
in.  You  know  turkeys  are  not  gentle  and  home- 
like, as  the  chicken  hens  are,  and  they  don't 

in 


112  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

like  to  stay  around  the  house  and  barn,  as  the 
chicken  hens  do." 

"Why?"  promptly  asked  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  that's  pretty  hard  to  explain  to  a 
little  boy,  but  I  '11  tell  you.  The  turkeys  that 
we  raise  are  descended  from  wild  turkeys — that 
is,  their  great-great-grandmas  were  wild  turkeys, 
and  flew  around  in  the  woods  and  never  heard  of 
such  a  thing  as  people,  and  when  they  made 
their  nests  they  had  to  hide  them  away — away 
some  place  where  the  foxes  and  coons  and  other 
wild  animals  couldn't  find  them  and  eat  up  their 
eggs  and  little  turkeys,  and  they  had  to  hide 
them  from  the  crows  and  hawks  and  other  big 
birds  too.  The  crows  were  bad  about  stealing 
their  eggs  and  hawks  about  stealing  their  little 
turkeys.  It  hasn't  been  so  very  many  years 
since  the  turkeys  were  wild,  and  they  still  have 
the  instincts  and  habits  of  the  wild  turkeys;  so 
in  the  springtime  the  old  turkey  hen  gets  it  into 
her  head  somehow  that  she  has  to  slip  away  off 
and  hide  her  eggs,  where  the  foxes  and  coons 
and  polecats  and  snakes  and  crows  and  hawks 
can't  get  them." 

"Why,"  asked  the  little  boy  in  surprise, 
"wouldn't  the  eggs  be  safer  right  around  the 
house  in  the  chimney-corner  or  in  the  hen- 


THREE    HEADS   JUST    SHOWING   ABOVE    THE    STRAVv 


THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST.  115 

house    or    in    the    stable?    The    wild    things 
wouldn't  come  after  them  there." 

' '  Of  course,  but  the  old  turkey  doesn't  know 
that.  She  can't  reason  as  we  can.  What  little 
sense  she  has  is  only  what  we  call  instinct;  that 
is  the  sense  that  taught  them  to  take  care  of 
themselves  and  raise  their  little  ones  when  they 
were  wild.  You  know  a  turkey  hasn't  room 
enough  in  her  head  for  a  very  big  lot  of  brains 
any  way,  and  what  few  she  has  seem  to  be  a  very 
poor  kind  of  brains.  But,  if  you  keep  asking 
questions,  I  never  will  get  to  tell  about  how  she 
makes  her  nest.  Well,  she  goes  around  the 
farm  with  the  other  turkeys  every  day  until  she 
gets  ready  to  make  her  nest,  and  then  some  nice 
morning  she  starts  out  with  them  as  if  she  were 
going  to  stay  with  them,  but  pretty  soon  she 
begins  to  stray  off  from  the  rest.  She  picks  at 
the  grass  and  clover-blossoms  and  catches  grass- 
hoppers, just  as  if  she  wasn't  thinking  of  any- 
thing but  getting  something  to  eat,  but  every 
minute  or  two  she  stops  and  looks  around  to  see 
if  anything  or  anybody  is  watching  her;  then 
she  picks  along  a  little  further  and  looks  around 
again.  All  the  time,  I  expect,  she  is  thinking 
about  some  nice,  quiet  place  that  she  has  picked 
out  as  a  good  place  for  a  nest;  any  way,  she 


116  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

keeps  on  until  she  gets  clear  away  by  herself, 
and  usually  she  finds  a  place  in  a  fence-corner, 
where  the  last  year's  blue  grass  has  fallen  over 
and  where  the  last  year's  dry  leaves  have  drifted. 
The  briars  are  growing  thick  there,  and  there 
are  generally  two  or  three  little  trees,  so  the  old 
turkey  creeps  in  between  the  trees  and  briars 
and  under  the  dead  grass  and  scratches  out  a 
place  in  the  ground;  she  then  puts  some  sticks 
and  leaves  and  grass  in  the  hollow  place  she  has 
scratched  out,  and  when  she  lays  her  egg  she 
covers  it  up  with  more  leaves  and  dead  grass, 
and  slips  away  just  as  quietly  as  she  can." 

"How  could  you  ever  find  her  nest?"  asked 
the  little  boy. 

"  Well,  that  old  turkey  would  come  home  for 
two  or  three  evenings  from  a  different  direction 
from  that  which  the  other  turkeys  came  from, 
and  grandma  would  say: 

"  'Well,  I  do  believe  that  old  brown  turkey 
that  raised  such  a  large  flock  last  year  has  gone 
to  laying  already.  She  hasn't  come  home  with 
the  other  turkeys  for  two  or  three  days.  Now 
I  want  you  boys  to  watch  her  to-morrow  and 
find  her  nest.' 

"So  the  next  morning  Henry  and  Jimmy 
and  I  watched  the  turkeys  until  that  one  started 


THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST.  117 

off  by  herself;  then  Henry  and  I  each  climbed  a 
tree  so  we  could  see  a  long  way  and  so  that  old 
turkey  couldn't  see  us,  and  Jimmy  perched  him- 
self up  between  the  stakes  of  an  old  rail  fence. 
The  old  turkey  soon  struck  off  pretty  fast  to- 
ward a  big  briar-patch  that  had  grown  up  along 
an  old  fence.  About  that  time  one  of  the  boys 
from  one  of  grandpa's  tenant-houses  came  across 
the  field,  and  old  Mrs.  Turkey  stopped  and  went 
to  picking  grass  and  chasing  grasshoppers  and 
bugs,  just  as  if  she  wasn't  going  anywhere  in 
particular.  She  fooled  around  that  way  for 
half  an  hour  until  she  was  sure  that  no  one  was 
watching  her,  then  she  began  to  steal  off  to- 
wards the  briar-patch  again.  Presently  she  went 

* 

around  a  strawstack,  and  we  couldn't  see  her; 
then  we  got  down  from  our  perches  and  went  as 
fast  as  we  could  towards  the  strawstack,  and  what 
do  you  think  that  old  turkey  did?  Just  about 
the  time  we  reached  the  strawstack  she  came 
back  around  it  and  saw  us.  Well,  sir,  she  went 
walking  off  toward  home  again,  as  if  she  had 
never  dreamed  of  a  nest.  She  walked  off,  look- 
ing unconcerned  and  innocent,  just  as  much  as 
to  say:  '  I  wonder  what  you  boys  are  doing,  any 
way?  If  you  are  out  looking  for  turkeys'  nests, 
I  'm  sure  I  can't  tell  you  anything  about  them. 


118  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

I  am  just  out  taking  a  stroll  myself  and  getting 
something  to  eat.  I  think  it 's  pretty  early  for 
turkeys'  nests,  any  way.'  And  that  miserable 
old  turkey  didn't  do  a  thing  but  wander  all  the 
way  back  to  the  orchard  and  stand  around  as  if 
she  wished  night  would  come  so  she  could  go  to 
roost.  We  boys  got  to  throwing  rocks  at  the 
frogs  down  at  the  pond,  and  the  first  thing  we 
knew  that  old  turkey  had  disappeared.  She 
didn't  get  home  that  night  until  about  dark — 
long  after  the  other  turkeys — and  we  all  knew 
that  somewhere  out  on  the  farm  there  was  an- 
other big,  speckled  egg  hid  away  in  a  nest. 
Grandma  said  something  about  a  big  fat  cherry 
pie  that  she  had  made  for  whoever  found  that 
turkey's  nest,  but  '  reckoned '  she  wouldn't  have 
any  use  for  it,  as  nobody  seemed  to  be  finding 
turkeys'  nests;  so  we  got  our  heads  together 
and  fixed  up  a  plan  to  fool  old  Mrs.  Turkey. 
Next  morning  when  she  passed  the  strawstack 
there  were  three  black  heads  barely  showing 
above  the  straw  on  the  very  top  of  the  stack — 
two  woolly  heads  and  one  white-boy  head,  and 
there  were  six  eyes  in  those  three  heads  and  they 
were  all  on  that  old  turkey.  After  she  passed 
the  strawstack,  she  went  on  very  fast  until  she 
reached  the  very  thickest  of  the  grass  and  weeds 


THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST.  119 

and  briars.  We  couldn't  see  her  at  all,  but 
could  tell  where  she  was  by  seeing  the  weeds 
shake.  Pretty  soon  we  saw  the  weeds  in  a 
thick  fence-corner  shake;  they  shook  a  good 
long  while  in  the  same  place,  then  they  were  still. 

"  'Dah  's  dat  ties',  right  beside  dat  li'l  elum- 
tree,'  said  Jimmy. 

"  'Tain't  no  elum,  hit 's  a  hackberry  -  tree,' 
said  Henry,  '  an'  hit 's  de  one  right  by  de  long 
pinted  fence-stake.  Now,  keep  yo'  eyes  on  dat 
ve'y  same  tree  an'  stake,  'cause  dey  's  a  whole 
lot  o'  trees  an'  stakes  along  dat  fence.' 

"  'Jimmy,  you  lay  up  here,  and  keep  your 
eyes  on  the  right  place,  and  me  and  Henry  will 
go  and  find  the  nest,  and  you  tell  us  when  we  are 
hot  or  cold,'  said  the  little  white  boy,  who  some- 
times talked  almost  as  badly  as  the  little  ne- 
groes. Jimmy  didn't  like  that,  but  he  stayed, 
and  Henry  and  I  scampered  off.  We  reached 
the  place  where  we  thought  it  was,  and  then  we 
began  to  get  confused.  The  tree  didn't  look 
like  the  same  tree  at  all,  and  there  were  lots  of 
fence-stakes  with  sharp  points  high  above  the 
fence.  We  knew  Jimmy  was  yelling,  'Cold!' 
but  we  couldn't  hear  him,  and  he  began  to 
motion  with  his  hands  to  show  us  which  way  to 
go.  Finally,  Jimmy  got  down  and  came  tearing 


120  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

through  the  bushes  like  a  steer  running  away. 
He  went  on  past  us,  and,  climbing  the  fence, 
went  straight  to  an  old  dead  tree,  and  looked 
back  at  the  strawstack.  'Now  I  's  gwine  fin' 
er  tu'key's  nes','  he  said,  'an'  den  who'll  eat 
pie  ? '  And  he  did  find  it.  He  had  noticed  that 
he  could  look  right  over  the  place  where  we  last 
saw  the  turkey  and  see  the  dead  tree,  which  was 
near  the  fence;  then  when  he  reached  the  tree 
he  could  look  back  at  the  place  on  the  straw- 
stack  and  tell  just  where  to  look  along  the  fence 
for  the  nest.  There  were  six  big  speckled  eggs 
in  it.  We  took  all  of  them,  and  left  an  old  hen 
egg  for  a  nest-egg.  Of  course,  the  old  turkey 
had  sneaked  away  as  soon  as  she  saw  us  coming. 
Then  we  marked  the  place  by  tying  some  grass 
around  a  fence-stake,  and  went  home. 

"We  went  every  day  and  got  the  egg,  but 
one  day  we  saw  a  crow  sitting  on  the  fence  near 
the  nest,  and  when  we  got  there  the  egg  was 
gone  and  so  was  the  old  nest-egg.  Next  morn- 
ing grandpa  took  an  old  suit  of  clothes  and 
stuffed  them  with  straw  and  put  tobacco-sticks 
in  the  legs  and  arms  to  make  them  stand 
straight;  then  he  tied  an  old  hat  on  his  straw 
man  and  took  it  out  and  tied  it  on  the  fence  over 


THE  OLD  TURKEY'S  NEST.  121 

the  turkey's  nest;  then  the  crow  didn't  bother 
the  nest  any  more. 

' '  One  day  when  we  went  to  get  the  egg  there 
was  nothing  left  of  the  scarecrow  but  a  little 
pile  of  straw  and  four  tobacco-sticks.  When 
we  told  grandpa  about  it,  he  said:  'Well,  I  saw 
old  Harrison  Whaley  go  across  that  field  yester- 
day. I  wonder  if  that  had  anything  to  do  with  it  ?' 

"One  day  pretty  soon  after  that  grandpa 
met  old  Harrison  on  the  pike.  He  didn't  see 
grandpa  until  they  were  right  together,  or  he 
would  have  climbed  over  the  fence  as  if  he  were 
going  somewhere  else. 

"  'Whoa!'   said  grandpa.     'Good  morning, 
Harrison.     Do  you  know  where  I  can  get  a  good 
strong  man  to  help  me  cut  oats  next  week  ? ' 

"  'Mornin',  Mahs.  No,  sah;  no,  sah,  I 
does  not.  I  'd  go  mahsef ,  but  I  's  so  weak  in  de 
laigs  dese  days  dey  feels  like  dey  would  crumple 
all  up  right  undah  me.  Dey  feels  dat  way  dis 
ve'y  minit.' 

"  'Why,  Harrison,'  said  grandpa,  winking, 
'you  ought  to  have  a  couple  of  good  tobacco- 
sticks  in  your  pants  legs;  that  would  keep  a 
straw  man  from  crumpling  up.' 

"Old  Harrison  jumped  clear  off  the  ground, 
he  was  so  surprised,  and  said,  pretending  to 


122  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

laugh:  '  Yas,  sah;  yas,  sah;  I  'specs  dey  would. 
Mornin',  boss;  mornin',  sah.'  And  away  went 
old  Harrison,  shaking  his  head  and  talking  to 
himself." 

"Did  the  crows  get  the  turkey  eggs  after  the 
scarecrow  got  stoled?"  asked  the  little  boy. 

"No;  she  went  to  sitting  pretty  soon,  and 
grandpa  fixed  her  the  same  way  he  fixed  all  the 
old  wild  turkeys  when  they  wanted  to  sit  and 
hatch  out  little  turkeys.  He  turned  a  barrel 
down  out  in  the  back  yard  and  made  a  nice  nest 
and  put  twenty  nice  eggs  in  it;  then  he  went  out 
to  the  nest  and  got  the  old  turkey  and  brought 
her  home  and  put  her  on  the  nest  in  the  barrel, 
then  he  fastened  up  the  barrel  so  she  couldn't 
get  out,  and  she  settled  down  on  the  eggs  and 
was  perfectly  satisfied.  For  two  or  three  days 
she  was  fed  while  on  the  nest;  then  she  was  al- 
lowed to  walk  around  a  little,  and  someone 
would  have  to  watch  her  to  keep  her  from  going 
back  to  her  old  nest.  She  soon  began  to  get 
gentle,  though,  and  by  the  time  the  little  turkeys 
hatched  out,  she  was  almost  as  gentle  as  an  old 
chicken  hen. 

"Good  night,  now.  Let 's  go  to  sleep.  T  '11 
tell  you  about  the  little  turkeys  some  other 
time." 


"D 


THE  TAR  MAN. 

ADDY,  tell  me  about  you  in  the  niggah 
cabin  at  night,"  said  the  little  boy, 
"when  all  the  little  niggahs  sat  around 
the  log  fire." 

"Let 's  see,"  said 
papa;  "did  I  ever  tell  you 
about  that?" 

'  'Yes;  and  they  played 
the  fiddle  and  told  stories 
about  Mr.  Rabbit  and 
Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Bear,  as 
if  they  were  all  people, 
and  about  Mr.  Rabbit 
and  the  Tar  Man  and 
about  Mr.  Fox  catching 
fish  with  his  tail,  and  Mr. 
Crow  and  Mr.  Possum 
and  all  of  them  goin'  visitin'." 

"Yes,  they  used  to  tell  me  all  those  old  tales; 
but  everyone  that  ever  lived  where  colored  folks 
lived  has  heard  all  those  stories.  Why,  you  can 
read  those  stories  in  lots  of  books,  and  they  are 

123 


"Lemme  loose,  I  jell  you!" 


124  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

the  same  that  every  little  Southern  boy  used 
to  hear  from  his  own  colored  folks." 

"Tell  me  again,  daddy." 

"Well,  on  winter  nights,  when  we  would 
have  supper  early  and  the  men  would  get  the 
milking  and  feeding  done  and  get  plenty  of  wood 
up  ready  for  the  fires,  I  used  to  ask  grandpa  to 
let  me  go  down  to  the  cabin;  so  he  would  call  one 
of  the  negro  boys  and  he  would  take  me  down 
to  the  cabin.  Uncle  John  would  be  playing  the 
fiddle,  and  sometimes  some  of  them  would  be 
dancing.  The  rest  would  be  seated  around  the 
fire,  eating  apples  or  roasted  potatoes  or  pop- 
corn or  sometimes  parched  corn — just  big  corn 
like  that  the  horses  eat,  parched  in  a  skillet  or 
in  a  shovel. 

"I  would  sit  in  a  little  chair,  or  very  often 
on  Mammy  Maria's  or  Mary's  lap.  Sometimes  I 
would  climb  up  on  Uncle  John's  knee  and  try  to 
play  his  fiddle,  but  I  never  tried  long,  because  I 
would  rather  hear  him  play. 

'After  they  got  tired  playing  and  singing, 
they  would  tell  stories,  and  I  never  got  tired 
hearing  them  tell  about  Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mr.  Fox 
and  Mr.  Bear.'' 

' '  Tell  me  about  Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mr.  Fox  and 
Mr.  Bear  and  Mr.  Terrapin  and  Mr.  Possum." 


THE  TAR  MAN.  125 

"Well,  I  11  tell  you  about  one  of  them  now 
and  the  others  some  other  time.  Here  's  one 
they  used  to  tell  me  about  the  Tar  Man.  I  '11 
tell  you  just  as  old  Aunt  Nina  told  me. 

"Old  Mr.  Fox  had  some  fine  cabbage  in  'is 
gyahden  one  summah,  an'  evah  night  somebody 
stole  some  o'  'is  cabbage.  He  couldn't  tell  who 
was  stealin'  dat  cabbage,  so  by'm-by  he  went  an' 
tol'  ol'  Mr.  Coon  'bout  it.  Ol'  Mr.  Coon  say, 
'I  know  who  's  stealin'  yo'  cabbage;  I  'low  it  's 
oT  Mr.  Rabbit.' 

"Den  Mr.  Fox  think  how  he  gwine  to  ketch 
ol'  Mr.  Rabbit.  By'm-by  he  made  a  man  out  o' 
tah  and  set  him  up  in  his  cabbage-patch.  'Long 
'bout  midnight  ol'  Mr.  Rabbit  cum  hoppin'  er- 
long  in  the  gyahden.  He  hopped  erlong  de  walk 
an'  smelt  o'  de  vegetables,  an'  evah  now  an' 
den  took  a  little  bite  o'  sumpin',  but  all  de  time 
he  wuz  a-thinkin'  'bout  dat  cabbage  -  patch. 
Aftah  a  while  he  saw  de  Tah  Man. 

"  '  Oh,  yes! '  he  said,  '  now  we  's  done  got  you, 
we  has.  We  's  been  wonderin'  who  it  was 
stealin'  Br'er  Fox's  cabbages,  an'  now  we  's 
caught  you,  you  brack  niggah.  Oh!  you  needn't 
stan'  thah  an'  say  nothin'.  Why  don't  you  an- 
sah  me  ? '  said  ol'  Mr.  Rabbit,  gittin'  mad.  '  Who 


126  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

is  you,  anyway?  I  11  come  ovah  thah  an'  slap 
you  ovah,  ef  you  don't  ansah  me.' 

"De  ol'  Tah  Man  jes'  stood  thah  an'  nevah 
say  a  word,  an'  ol'  Mr.  Rabbit  went  ovah  an' 
stood  up  on  'is  hin'  feet  an'  hauled  off  wid  'is 
right  foot  an'  slapped  de  Tah  Man  right  on  de 
side  o'  de  haid.  Ol'  Mr.  Rabbit  tried  to  get  'is 
foot  loose  an'  couldn't,  fer  it  done  stuck  tight. 

"  '  Lemme  go!'  say  Mr.  Rabbit.  'You  bettah 
lemme  go,  I  tell  you!  I  got  'nuther  han'.  I  '11 
knock  de  othah  side  yo'  haid  off."  An'  he  fotch 
him  a  lick  on  de  othah  side  o'  de  haid,  an'  dat 
han'  stuck  tight  too. 

"  'Who  you  foolin'  wid?'  say  ol'  Mr.  Rabbit. 
'  I  got  a  foot  lef;  I  kick  you  all  to  pieces.'  An' 
he  pulled  back  he  hin'  foot  an'  kicked  de  Tah 
Man  on  de  shin,  an'  de  foot  stuck;  den  he  kicked 
wid  de  othah  foot,  an'  it  stuck  too. 

"  'Lemme  go,  I  tell  you!  Ef  you  don't  let 
loos'n  me,  I  haul  off  wid  my  haid  an'  butt  de 
life  out'n  you. 

"But  de  ol'  Tah  Man  nevah  say  nothin',  an' 
ol'  Mr.  Rabbit  so  mad  by  dis  time  he  sock  'is 
haid  right  in  ol'  Mr.  Tah  Man's  chis',  an'  dar  he 
was  stuck  fas'  an'  tight. 

"  'Long  'bout  daylight  ol'  Mr.  Fox  cum  a- 
walkin'  out  in  'is  gyahden  an'  he  saw  ol'  Mr. 


THE  TAR  MAN.  127 

Rabbit  stuck  to  de  Tah  Man.  He  pick  'im  up 
an'  say, '  Now  I  's  got  you.  I  's  gwine  to  fix  you. 
You  won't  steal  no  mo'  my  cabbage.' 

"Mr.  Rabbit  didn't  say  nuffin,'  but  he  keep 
up  a  mighty  thinkin'  'bout  how  he  gwine  to 
git  loose.  Mr.  Fox  took  him  ovah  to  Mr. 
Coon's  home  an*  say  to  Mr.  Coon:  '  Heah  's  de 
man  what  been  a-stealin'  my  cabbage.  Now, 
what  we  gwine  to  do  wid  'im?' 

"Mr.  Coon  he  considah  an'  considah,  an* 
by'm-by  he  say,  '  You  mus'  fro  'im  in  de  fiah  an' 
bu'n  'im  up,  er  fro  'im  in  de  briahs  an'  scratch 
'is  eyes  out.  Ax  'im  which  way  he  ruthah  die, 
an'  ef  he  say,  "Fro  me  in  de  fiah,"  you  fro  'im 
in  de  briahs,  an'  ef  he  say,  "Fro  me  in  de  briah- 
patch,"  you  fro  'im  in  de  fiah.'  So  Mr.  Fox  ax 
'im  an'  he  say:  '  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Fox,  fro  me  in  de 
fiah!  Don't  fro  me  out  in  dat  briah-patch  an' 
scratch  me  to  deaf.  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Fox,  jes'  fro 
me  in  de  fiah  an'  be  done  wid  it!'  So  Mr.  Fox 
he  heave  'im  out  ez  fur  ez  he  could  fro  'im  in  de 
briah-patch.  Ol'  Mr.  Rabbit  lit  'way  out  in  de 
briahs,  an'  when  he  got  froo  to  de  groun'  he 
kick  up  'is  heels  an'  say,  'Good-bye,  Mr.  Fox; 
I  wuz  bawn  an'  riz  in  de  briahs;  I  likes  briahs.' 
An'  he  struck  out  lickety-split,  an'  nevah  stopped 
twell  he  got  home." 


128  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"  Now,  daddy,  tell  me  about  the  bear  catching 
fish  with  his  tail,  and  how  the  coon  got  rings  on 
his  tail,  and  a  whole  lot  of  'em." 

"No,  no,"  said  papa;  "not  to-night.  I'll 
tell  them  again  sometime;  but  you  can  read  all 
of  them,  and  the  Tar  Man  too,  in  books  when 
you  get  bigger.  They  were  told  to  all  the  little 
boys  who  lived  down  South  before  all  the  ne- 
groes got  to  be  'coons,'  and  everybody  who 
writes  about  the  old-time  negroes  tells  the  same 
old  stories.  You  can  find  all  of  them  just  about 
as  I  have  told  you  in  half  a  dozen  books,  but  I 
have  told  them  to  you  just  as  they  were  told 
to  me.  Sometimes  when  I  was  at  the  negro 
cabin  they  would  tell  ghost  stories  and  get  me  so 
scared  that  it  would  take  two  or  three  of  them 
to  take  me  up  to  the  house  at  bedtime.  No,  I 
won't  tell  you  any  ghost  stories,  because  there 
aren't  such  things  as  ghosts.  That 's  all  this 
time." 

"Ain't  stories  about  Mr.  Fox  and  Mr.  Bear 
and  Mr.  Rabbit  a  whole  heap  like  fairy  stories, 
daddy?" 

Papa  shifted  both  feet  and  cleared  his  throat, 
as  he  frequently  did  when  the  little  boy's  ques- 
tions puzzled  him. 


THE  TAR  MAN.  129 

"But  I  like  them  better  than  I  do  fairy 
stories,"  added  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  of  course  they  are  not  exactly  true, 
like  our  own  stories,  but  they  are  not  quite  so 
bad  as  fairy  stories,  because  there  are  such 
things  as  foxes  and  bears  and  rabbits,  and  while 
they  can't  talk,  they  can  make  each  other  un- 
derstand a  good  many  things.  Everybody 
knows  there  are  no  such  things  as  fairies." 

"Good-night,  daddy,"  said  the  tired  little 
boy.  "But  wasn't  old  Mr.  Rabbit  smart?" 


FINDING  THINGS. 

"I     OOK,    DADDY,"    said   the   little   boy, 

holding  up  a  marble,  "see  what  I  found? 

Didn't  you  used  to  find  lots  of  things 

when  you  were  a  little  boy  on  the  farm  and  had 

so  much  room  to  find  things  in? " 

"Yes,  I  used  to  find  lots  of  things." 

"Tell  me  about  'em,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  we  didn't  find  things  like  those  you 
find  here  in  town,  but  we  found  different  kinds 
of  things." 

"Tell  me  all  about  'em,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"Well,  when  I  was  a  little  bit  of  a  fellow,  we 
found  lots  of  things  that  the  Indians  used  a  long, 
long  while  ago.  We  found  arrow-heads  made 
out  of  flint.  These  were  hard  rocks  cut  like 
this."  And  papa  went  to  a  drawer  and  took 
out  a  fine  flint  arrow-head. 

"Did  the  Indians  make  that?" 

"Yes,  the  Indians  made  that  a  long,  long 
while  ago,  before  any  of  us  were  born." 

"Goodness!"  said  the  little  boy.  "It  must 
be  awful  old." 

130 


FINDING  THINGS. 


131 


"Well,  I  don't  know  how  old  it  is,  but  it  will 
look  just  the  same  way  a  hundred  years  from 
now,  if  nobody  breaks  it.  I  found  this  when  I 
was  a  little  boy,  not  much  bigger  than  you,  and 
I  found  all  these  others  about  the  same  time." 


-^p 

"GO  ON.  NIGGAH;  I  AIN'T  AFEARD." 

And  papa  pulled  open  a  drawer  that  was  filled 
with  flint  arrow-heads,  stone  axes,  and  stone 
skin-dressers.  The  little  boy  asked  what  each 
thing  was  for,  and  asked  especially  about  the 
flint  arrow-heads.  Papa  explained  to  him  how 


132  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

the  Indians  made  their  bows  and  arrows,  and 
how  they  split  the  ends  of  the  arrows  and  fitted 
the  arrow-head  in  and  tied  it  with  strong  strings. 

"What  did  the  Indians  use  these  for,  papa?" 

"Why,  to  kill  game  with,  to  shoot  rabbits 
and  deer  with,  and  to  fight  with  when  they  got 
mad  at  the  white  people." 

"Didn't  they  have  any  guns?" 

"No,  the  Indians  did  not  have  any  guns,  but 
they  sometimes  killed  lots  of  people  with  these 
bows  and  arrows.  Sometimes  they  would  make 
poison  out  of  the  different  kinds  of  roots  and  dip 
these  arrow-heads  in  the  poison,  and  then  any- 
body shot  with  these  arrow-heads  would  die 
from  the  poison." 

' '  Goodness !     Indians  must  be  awful  bad. ' ' 

"Yes;  but  they  thought  they  were  fighting 
for  their  country.  Some  of  them  were  pretty 
bad,  though." 

"Where  did  you  find  all  of  these  things, 
daddy?" 

"Oh!  we  found  them  scattered  over  the 
ground  everywhere,  and  sometimes  we  would 
dig  into  a  grave  where  an  Indian  had  been  buried 
and  find  a  great  many  of  these  things  in  the 
grave." 

1 '  What  else  did  you  find  ? " 


FINDING  THINGS.  133 

"Well,  we  used  to  go,  when  we  were  little 
boys,  to  different  places  on  the  farm  where  old 
houses  had  stood,  and  we  would  find  pieces  of 
china.  There  were  blue  pieces  and  red  pieces 
and  yellow  pieces,  and  sometimes  we  found  al- 
most a  whole  plate  or  saucer  with  the  funniest 
things  painted  on  them  you  ever  saw.  That 
was  the  kind  of  china  used  over  one  hundred 
years  ago. 

"Grandpa's  farm  was  a  very  old  one,  and  the 
old  big  road  used  to  run  through  it — the  old  road 
that  ran  through  the  center  of  Kentucky — and 
one  of  the  old  houses  that  used  to  be  on  grand- 
pa's farm  was  a  tavern,  and  all  the  wagons  and 
stages  stopped  there,  sometimes  to  stay  all 
night  and  sometimes  to  get  dinner  and  feed  and 
water  their  horses.  We  used  to  find  old  silver 
pieces,  too,  around  these  places.  There  was  one 
hole  that  was  once  a  cellar,  where  we  'would 
take  our  hoes  and  dig,  and  we  could  nearly 
always  find  some  silver  pieces,  and  one  time 
I  found  a  silver  half-dollar  nearly  a  hundred 
years  old.  One  day  grandpa  had  the  negro 
men  taking  up  an  old  fence  near  this  place,  and 
one  of  them  found  an  old  silver  dime.  After  a 
while  he  reached  down  and  picked  up  another 
dime  and  put  it  in  his  pocket;  then  he  pulled 


134  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

away  another  rail  and  picked  up  something  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket  real  quick  and  said,  '  I  've 
found  a  whole  handful  of  money.'  He  went 
right  along  picking  up  things  and  putting  them 
in  his  pocket,  and  eveiy  time  he  put  something 
in  he  would  say  it  was  a  bigger  piece,  until  after 
a  while  he  was  rinding  dollar  and  five-dollar 
pieces.  Henry  and  Jimmy  and  I  were  looking 
everywhere  and  could  not  find  any,  but  Har- 
rison would  just  pull  up  a  rail  and  run  his  hand 
under  it  and  then  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and 
shake  his  pocket,  and  we  thought  he  was  getting 
rich  just  as  fast  as  could  be.  After  a  while 
grandpa  came  along,  and  I  said: 

"  'Papa,  Harrison  is  going  to  quit  work,  I 
expect,  because  he  has  found  a  whole  fortune 
under  this  old  fence.  Before  he  gets  through  he 
will  have  pretty  near  a  barrel  of  money.' 

' '  Harrison  looked  up  at  grandpa  and  looked 
real  silly,  but  he  did  not  find  any  more  money 
while  grandpa  was  there,  and  I  noticed  that 
after  the  fence  was  torn  down  Harrison  did  not 
seem  to  have  any  more  money  than  he  had 
before.  I  asked  grandpa  about  it  afterwards, 
and  he  said  he  suspected  Harrison  was  picking 
up  little  rocks  and  making  us  boys  think  it  was 
money;  but  he  did  find  a  dime,  because  he 
showed  it  to  us  afterwards. 


FINDING  THINGS.  135 

1 '  The  biggest  find  we  ever  made  on  the  farm, 
though,  was  a  lot  of  marbles.  I  will  tell  you 
where  we  found  them.  When  we  were  little  bits 
of  fellows,  we  used  to  play  marbles  on  the  big 
back  porch.  There  was  a  great  big  crack  at  one 
end  of  the  porch,  and  we  lost  lots  of  marbles 
under  the  house.  One  time,  when  we  were 
pretty  big  boys,  we  got  to  talking  about  all  the 
marbles  we  had  lost  under  the  house,  until  you 
would  think  there  was  a  whole  marble  store 
under  there;  so  Henry  said,  'Let 's  go  under  there 
an'  get  'em.'  So  we  looked  all  around  the  house 
for  a  place  we  could  get  under.  Grandpa  heard 
us  talking  about  it,  and  he  took  a  rock  out  of 
the  foundation  and  made  a  hole  big  enough  for 
a  boy  to  crawl  in.  We  all  looked  through  the 
hole,  one  at  a  time,  and  thought  it  was  awfully 
dark,  and  we  were  afraid  we  could  not  find  any 
marbles  anyway.  There  were  little,  weak-look- 
ing trees  growing  up  under  there,  and  it  was 
dark  and  smelt  damp,  and  we  did  not  care  very 
much  about  going  in,  after  all;  but  finally  one  of 
us  went  under  a  little  way,  and  then  another  one 
came  in,  and  at  last  Jimmy  came  in  too;  then 
we  were  all  under  the  house.  Pretty  soon  we 
got  used  to  the  darkness  and  the  damp  smell, 
and  we  went  ahead  looking  for  marbles.  The 


136  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

first  thing  we  knew  Henry  found  a  big  glass 
marble  and  then  I  found  one  and  Jimmy  found 
a  ball.  We  had  not  been  under  the  house  ten 
minutes  before  we  had  our  pockets  nearly  full  of 
marbles  and  balls  and  tops  and  had  one  or  two 
knives.  After  that  a  marble  could  not  hide 
from  us  by  rolling  under  that  porch,  for  in  less 
than  five  minutes  there  would  be  a  boy  hunting 
it,  and  before  long  there  would  be  a  boy  getting 
into  trouble  for  having  his  clothes  dirty.  We 
crawled  around  under  there  so  much  and  got  so 
much  mud  and  dirt  on  our  clothes  that  grandpa 
threatened  to  fasten  up  the  hole.  One  day  I 
crept  back  in  such  a  tight  place  under  the  porch 
that  I  got  fastened,  and  I  had  to  scratch  the  dirt 
away  before  I  could  get  out.  After  that  I  was 
more  careful  about  rolling  marbles  under  the 
porch,  and  pretty  soon  grandpa  fastened  the 
hole  up  sure  enough  to  keep  us  from  soiling  all 
the  clothes  we  had. 

"There  was  another  place  about  the  old 
house  where  we  used  to  find  things.  After  we 
got  big  enough  to  climb  around,  we  noticed  that 
directly  over  the  door  on  the  back  porch  there 
was  a  big  hole  leading  to  a  loft  over  the  back 
room.  We  used  to  wonder  what  was  in  there, 
and  we  imagined  that  Santa  Claus  lived  there. 


FINDING  THINGS.  137 

We  had  all  sorts  of  stories  about  what  might 
be  in  that  loft.  Finally,  one  day  we  got  a 
ladder  and  went  in.  We  found  old  door-knobs 
and  locks  and  keys  and  chains  and  all  sorts  of 
things  that  a  boy  likes  to  have  and  that  he  ought 
not  to  have.  Grandpa  told  us  that  the  house 
that  used  to  be  there  had  burned  down,  and  that 
all  these  iron  things  had  been  taken  out  of  the 
ashes  and  had  been  put  up  there  to  keep.  We 
country  boys  did  not  have  as  many  playthings 
as  you  city  boys  have,  so  we  used  these  for  play- 
things and  had  a  pretty  good  time  with  them. 
"There  was  something  else  we  used  to  find 
that  you  boys  in  town  never  find — we  called 
them  terrapins.  They  are  like  the  tortoise  that 
you  read  about  in  your  books  and  like  the  turtles, 
only  they  stay  on  dry  land.  Whenever  we  found 
a  terrapin  we  would  bring  him  to  the  house  and 
make  him  stick  his  head  and  legs  out  of  his  shell 
and  walk  by  putting  a  coal  of  fire  on  his  back. 
You  know  he  has  a  hard  shell  all  over  him,  and 
it  wouldn't  burn  him  much  to  put  a  small  coal 
on  top  of  his  shell  and  leave  it  there  a  little 
while.  He  would  open  his  shell  and  stick  his 
feet  and  head  out  and  try  to  get  away  from  the 
fire;  then  we  would  take  the  coal  off  and  he 
would  draw  in  his  feet  and  head,  close  up  his 


138  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

shell,  and  be  right  still  again.  Before  we  took 
him  back  in  the  fields  and  turned  him  loose,  we 
would  cut  our  names  and  the  date  on  his  shell. 
One  time,  when  I  was  a  grown  man,  I  found  one 
that  I  had  cut  my  name  on  just  twenty  years 
before.  He  may  be  there  on  the  old  farm  yet 
for  all  I  know.  I  don't  know  how  long  they 
live." 

"Didn't  you  find  any  birds'  nests?" 
"Yes;  but  grandpa  and  grandma  would  not 
let  us  take  the  eggs;  they  would  let  us  go  and 
look  at  them  and  watch  when  the  little  birds 
hatched  out,  but  we  couldn't  touch  them. 
Sometimes  they  would  let  us  catch  fishing-worms 
and  go  and  give  one  to  each  of  the  little  birds- 
You  know  that  just  as  soon  as  the  little  birds  in 
the  nest  hear  anything  near  them  they  think  it  is 
their  mamma,  and  they  open  their  mouths  wide 
for  her  to  drop  a  worm  in.  Then  we  used  to 
watch  the  little  birds  when  they  got  big  enough 
to  fly.  Sometimes  they  would  fall  out  of  the 
nest  before  they  could  fly,  and  then  we  would 
put  them  back  again  to  keep  the  cats  from  get- 
ting them.  Whenever  there  would  be  a  storm 
at  night,  we  would  always  find  a  lot  of  little 
birds  that  had  been  blown  out  of  their  nests. 
Sometimes  they  would  be  drowned,  but  nearly 


FINDING  THINGS.  139 

always  the  old  birds  would  be  able  to  take  care 
of  them  somehow." 

"What  else  did  you  find,  daddy?" 

"Oh!  sometimes  a  nest  full  of  little  rabbits 
out  in  the  grass  somewhere." 

"Didn't  you  ever  find  the  eggs  before  the 
little  rabbits  hatched  out?  Why  didn't  you  go 
out  early  Easter  morning?  and  you  could  have 
found  the  eggs." 

"That  reminds  me  of  how  we  used  to  color 
eggs  out  in  the  country,"  said  papa,  changing 
the  subject.  "We  would  take  some  green  wheat 
and  boil  it  with  the  eggs,  and  they  would  be 
colored  a  nice  green.  Sometimes  we  would 
wrap  them  in  colored  calico  and  boil  them,  and 
they  would  be  made  just  like  the  calico.  We 
didn't  have  any  nice  dyes  like  those  you  have." 

"Yes,  but  you  had  lots  of  fun.  Wish  I  was  a 
country  boy,  and  could  find  things  like  you  and 
Henry  and  Jimmy  used  to  find." 


SHEP. 

4  4  ¥  ET  ME  tell  you  about  a  dog  we  had  once 
on  the  farm,"  said  papa.  "I  want  you 
to  know  about  this  dog,  because  he  was 
the  best  and  smartest  dog  I  ever  saw.  We  had 
not  had  any  dog  for  a  long  while,  and  one  day 
grandpa  came  home  with  a  basket  that  had  a 
cloth  tied  over  the  top  of  it.  We  took  the  cloth 
off,  and  there  was  the  prettiest  little  yellow 
shepherd  dog  that  you  ever  saw.  He  was  as 
round  and  soft  as  a  ball  and  had  long  curly  hair 
just  as  soft  as  grandma's  muff,  and  had  a  little 
sharp  black  nose  and  pretty  big  brown  eyes. 
We  asked  grandpa  what  kind  of  a  dog  he  was, 
and  he  said: 

"  'He  is  a  shepherd  dog,  and  you  can  name 
him  "Shep"  right  now.  If  you  treat  that  dog 
right,  he  will  be  worth  as  much  on  the  farm  as 
two  or  three  boys.  As  soon  as  he  gets  big 
enough  you  can  teach  him  to  drive  the  cows  and 
sheep  and  look  after  the  stock  in  a  good  many 
ways/ 

"We  took  the  little  dog  out  and  played  with 

140 


HE    KNEW    EVERY    COW,  AND   WOULD    BRING   THEM    ALL.' 


SHEP.  143 

him  and  gave  him  some  milk,  and  he  wagged  his 
tail  and  began  to  feel  pretty  much  at  home. 

"  'Now,'  said  grandpa,  'you  raise  that  dog 
just  as  if  he  were  one  of  the  family,  only  don't 
let  him  forget  that  he  is  a  dog.  If  you  take  him 
and  teach  him  things,  he  will  be  worth  a  great 
deal  to  us;  but  don't  let  him  stay  in  the  house 
and  get  lazy.  Keep  him  out  in  the  yard,  where 
a  dog  belongs.' 

"Well,  Shep  grew  up  and  was  soon  a  big 
pretty  shepherd  dog.  He  did  not  know  very 
much  about  other  dogs,  because  he  was  raised 
on  the  farm  at  home,  and  hardly  ever  saw  any- 
thing or  anybody  except  the  family  and  stock, 
and  by  the  time  he  was  grown  he  knew  every 
cow  on  the  place  and  every  horse,  and  was  fa- 
miliar with  even  the  sheep  and  the  hogs.  We 
used  to  send  him  half  a  mile  from  home  after 
the  cows  all  by  himself,  and  he  would  bring 
them  and  not  let  any  of  the  rest  of  the  cattle 
come  with  them.  All  we  had  to  do  was  to  open 
the  gate  and  send  him  into  the  pasture. 

"One  time,  when  he  was  about  half  grown, 
he  thought  he  would  undertake  to  drive  an  old 
sheep  out  of  a  lot.  The  sheep  had  a  little  lamb 
around  there  somewhere,  and  she  wasn't  feeling 
very  friendly  to  dogs,  so  Shep  got  too  fresh  and 


144  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

the  old  sheep  ran  him  into  a  fence-corner  and 
nearly  butted  him  to  death.  After  that  he  was 
a  little  more  afraid  of  sheep,  but  when  he  grew 
up  he  got  over  that  so  that  he  would  go  after 
them  and  drive  them  home;  but  if  they  turned 
and  started  after  him,  he  ran  away.  However, 
this  did  not  happen  very  often,  for  they  gen- 
erally knew  him  and  knew  that  he  would  not 
hurt  them.  When  he  was  driving  a  cow,  he 
would  run  close  up  behind  her  heels  and  bark, 
and  then  fall  down  behind  on  the  ground  and 
let  the  cow  kick  over  him.  Sometimes  he  would 
not  fall  quite  quick  enough,  or  the  cow  would 
not  kick  quite  as  high  as  he  expected,  and  he 
would  get  some  pretty  hard  kicks;  but  he  'most 
always  managed  to  dodge. 

"One  day  grandpa  killed  a  beef  and  put  it 
out  in  the  yard  to  cool,  thinking  that  he  would 
go  back  later  and  put  it  away.  He  did  not  hang 
it  high  enough  to  keep  it  out  of  the  reach  of  the 
dogs,  but  he  thought  he  would  get  it  again  be- 
fore anything  touched  it.  However,  he  lay 
down  and  went  to  sleep,  and  away  in  the  night 
he  thought  about  his  beef.  He  jumped  up  and 
said,  'Now,  I'll  bet  the  dogs  have  ruined  half 
my  beef.'  So  he  put  on  his  clothes,  and  went 
very  hurriedly  out  to  where  he  had  hung  the 


SHEP.  145 

beef,  and  just  as  he  got  near  it,  Shep  jumped  up 
and  growled.  Grandpa  stopped  suddenly,  and 
then  saw  that  it  was  Shep.  He  said,  'Why, 
Shep,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  Have  you  been 
eating  my  beef?'  Shep  knew  who  it  was  then, 
and  walked  up  to  grandpa  wagging  his  tail; 
then  he  went  back  and  lay  down  near  the  beef 
again.  Grandpa  looked  around,  and  there  was  a 
row  of  cats  and  dogs  standing  at  a  respectful 
distance  from  the  beef  and  looking  at  it — two  of 
the  neighbors'  dogs  and  all  of  the  cats  on  the 
place.  Not  one  of  them  dared  to  come  any 
nearer,  because  Shep  was  watching,  and  not  one 
of  them  had  gotten  near  enough  to  touch  it,  and, 
of  course,  Shep  had  not  touched  it  himself. 
'Well,'  said  grandpa,  'if  you  are  going  to  watch 
the  beef,  I  will  go  to  bed.'  And  he  went  to 
bed  and  left  Shep  to  watch  the  beef  all  night. 

"Another  time,  grandpa  had  been  working 
out  in  the  field  and  Shep  had  been  with  him  all 
day.  When  he  came  home  at  night  he  missed 
the  dog  and  wondered  what  had  become  of  him. 
After  supper  he  called  and  called,  but  could  not 
find  Shep  anywhere.  The  next  morning  he  got 
up  early  and  looked  out,  expecting  to  see  Shep. 
Shep  was  not  there.  He  felt  very  sorry,  for  fear 
something  had  happened  to  the  dog,  but  when 


146  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY 

he  went  out  to  work  away  out  in  the  field  the 
first  thing  that  he  saw  was  his  coat  lying  on 
the  ground  and  Shep  lying  beside  it.  He  had 
watched  it  all  night.  Grandpa  thought  that 
was  very  smart  and  very  good,  and  so  he  picked 
up  his  coat,  and  told  Shep  to  run  home  and  get 
his  breakfast.  Shep  seemed  to  understand,  so 
off  he  trotted  for  home.  As  soon  as  grandma 
saw  him,  she  said,  '  Why,  Shep,  where  have  you 
been?'  Shep  wagged  his  tail  and  barked;  that 
was  the  best  he  could  do,  and  grandma  knew 
that  he  had  not  been  in  any  mischief,  so  she  gave 
him  a  good  breakfast,  and  he  went  back  out  in 
the  field  again. 

' '  One  night  I  heard  Shep  barking  out  in  the 
yard,  and  he  kept  barking  and  barking,  and 
finally  I  went  out  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 
As  soon  as  I  came  out  in  the  yard,  Shep  started 
off  towards  the  field  across  the  turnpike.  I  fol- 
lowed him  a  little  piece,  and  he  ran  back  to  me 
and  then  ran  down  towards  the  pike  again.  I 
concluded  that  he  was  barking  at  some  dogs  on 
the  turnpike  or  at  somebody  passing  along,  and 
I  started  back,  but  he  kept  running  after  me 
and  starting  towards  the  pike  again.  I  looked 
all  around  and  could  not  see  anything  wrong,  so 
I  went  back  to  bed  again,  and  left  Shep  barking 


SHEP.  147 

all  night.  After  a  while  I  heard  him  over  in  the 
field  across  the  pike,  barking.  The  next  morn- 
ing when  I  got  up  I  found  four  or  five  cows  in 
that  field.  The  gate  had  been  left  open,  and 
Shep  had  been  trying  to  get  me  to  go  with  him 
and  help  him  drive  those  cows  out  of  the  corn- 
field, and  I  was  not  smart  enough  to  find  out 
what  he  was  after.  He  had  done  everything 
but  talk  to  me  about  it,  and  I  would  not  under- 
stand; so  when  I  refused  to  go  with  him,  he 
went  into  the  field  and  worked  all  night  trying 
to  get  the  cows  out;  but  there  were  too  many 
of  them,  and  the  field  was  too  large,  and  he 
could  not  do  it.  When  I  helped  him  drive 
them  out  the  next  morning,  he  looked  at  me  as 
if  to  say:  'You  don't  know  much  about  cows  or 
dogs.  If  you  had  come  on  and  helped  me  last 
night,  we  would  have  saved  a  whole  lot  of  corn. 
Now  I  am  going  to  the  house  and  take  a  nap.' 

"We  used  to  go  to  school  about  two  miles 
from  home,  and  nearly  every  evening  Shep 
would  meet  us  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away 
and  come  home  with  us.  Whenever  we  got 
home  and  grandpa  wasn't  about  the  house,  we 
could  ask  Shep  where  he  was,  and  if  he  knew,  he 
would  take  us  straight  to  him.  All  we  had  to 
do  was  to  say,  'Shep,  where  's  daddy?' 


148  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"When  Shep  was  a  small  puppy,  we  had 
taught  him  to  shake  hands  and  to  bark  when  he 
wanted  something  to  eat.  We  would  hold  up  a 
piece  of  meat  and  say,  'Speak,  Shep,'  and  he 
would  bark;  so  when  he  got  older,  whenever  he 
was  hungry  he  did  not  wait  for  us  to  tell  him  to 
speak;  he  would  come  around  and  speak  any- 
way. Whenever  any  stranger  came  around  and 
Shep  began  to  like  him,  he  would  come  and  put 
up  his  paw  to  shake  hands;  but  when  there  was 
anybody  around  that  he  didn't  know  and  didn't 
like,  he  would  watch  him  just  as  long  as  he 
stayed  about  the  place. 

"Shep  wasn't  much  of  a  hunting  dog,  but  he 
used  to  follow  us  when  we  went  hunting,  and  he 
knew  as  well  what  a  gun  would  do  as  we  did. 
One  day  he  got  after  a  weasel  and  ran  it  into  the 
old  stone  wall  of  the  culvert  under  the  turnpike. 
The  weasel  got  into  the  wall  where  he  was  safe 
and  Shep  could  see  him,  but  could  not  reach  him. 
The  weasel  would  come  to  the  edge  cf  the  wall 
and  show  his  teeth  at  Shep,  and  that  would 
make  Shep  so  mad  that  he  tried  to  tear  the  wall 
down  to  get  at  the  weasel.  He  would  bite  at 
the  rocks  and  then  run  around  the  wall  to  try 
to  get  at  the  other  side  of  it,  and,  all  together, 
act  a  good  deal  as  if  he  were  crazy.  I  heard 


SHEP.  149 

him  barking,  so  I  took  the  gun  and  went  where 
he  was.  Shep  knew  in  a  minute  that  it  was  all 
up  with  Mr.  Weasel.  Just  as  soon  as  he  saw  me 
coming  with  the  gun  he  ran  'round  and  'round, 
and  acted  as  if  he  were  laughing;  then  he  got  out 
of  the  way  and  looked  at  me  and  then  looked  at 
the  hole  in  the  wall.  The  weasel  was  still  there, 
showing  his  teeth  at  the  dog,  and  thinking  he 
was  perfectly  safe.  I  took  aim  quickly  and  shot 
the  weasel,  and  then  Shep  was  so  glad  that  he 
almost  howled." 

"Didn't  Shep  ever  run  the  cats  and  treat  'em 
bad,  like  the  dogs  here?" 

"No;  Shep  was  friendly  with  the  cats  about 
the  place,  and  many  a  time  I  have  seen  him 
asleep  out  in  the  back  yard  with  two  or  three 
kittens  rolled  up  between  his  feet. 

"I  will  tell  you  how  he  used  to  play  with  us 
boys  when  we  were  little  fellows.  We  would 
sometimes  get  after  him  out  in  the  yard  and  try 
to  catch  him.  He  would  run  around  and  around 
in  a  circle,  and  we  would  think  every  minute 
that  we  would  catch  him,  and  just  as  soon  as  we 
were  about  to  get  hold  of  him,  he  would  dodge 
and  run  somewhere  else.  Then  sometimes  he 
would  get  after  us.  He  would  let  us  get  far 
away  from  him,  then  we  would  run  and  he  would 


150  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

start  after  us.  Anybody  who  didn't  know  about 
him  would  have  thought  that  when  he  caught  us 
he  would  eat  us  up,  but  we  would  nearly  always 
get  to  a  tree  or  a  fence  before  he  caught  us; 
then  he  would  bark  at  the  tree  or  fence  as  if  he 
would  tear  us  up  if  he  could  just  get  to  us;  then 
we  would  climb  over  the  fence  as  if  we  were  going 
the  other  way,  and  he  would  jump  the  fence  to 
be  there  to  catch  us.  Sometimes  when  we  were 
running  from  him,  we  would  fall  down,  and  he 
would  pounce  right  on  us,  but  he  would  not  hurt 
us  any  more  than  a  kitten  would. 

"One  day  when  we  met  some  other  boys  one 
of  them  said,  '  I  believe  I  '11  see  what  Shep  would 
do  if  I  should  lick  one  of  you  fellows."  So  he 
pitched  into  one  of  us,  just  for  fun,  but  before  he 
could  say  'Jack  Robinson,'  Shep  jumped  on  him 
and  almost  tore  his  coat  off.  It  took  all  four  of 
us  boys  to  explain  to  Shep  and  get  him  in  a  good 
humor;  but  he  never  did  like  that  boy  after 
that." 


CATCHING  BIRDS. 


ONE  EVENING  when  papa  came  home 
from  his  work,  he  found  the  little  boy 
in  bed. 

"Hello!  little  man.  Are  you  sick?"  asked 
papa  in  some  sur- 
prise, although 
from  the  little 
boy's  countenance 
papa  judged  that 
it  was  something 
besides  a  case  for 
the  doctor. 

The  little  boy 
didn't  answer  at 
once,  but  finally 
said:  "Daddy,  did 
you  ever  do  any- 
thing naughty  and 
have  to  go  to  bed 
in  the  daytime 

When    yOU    Were    a      »The  light  from  the  candle  would  blind 

little  boy?"  the  birds." 

151 


152  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"Well,  there  seemed  to  be  a  shorter  way  out 
of  it  when  I  was  a  little  boy.  I  used  to  be 
naughty  sometimes,  there  's  no  doubt  about 
that,  but  grandma  never  seemed  to  like  to  muss 
the  beds  up  in  the  daytime.  There  was  a  dark 
closet  pretty  convenient,  and,  besides,  the  peach- 
trees  grew  right  up  close  to  the  porch,  and  it 
seemed  that  they  always  needed  trimming  just 
about  the  time  I  got  real  naughty,  and — say,  did 
you  ever  notice  what  good  switches  grow  on  the 
peach-trees?  That  reminds  me — those  little 
peach-trees  that  I  planted  in  the  back  yard  last 
spring  are  getting  pretty  bushy  right  now." 

"Now,  daddy,  don't  joke  with  me;  I  don't 
feel  a  bit  like  it." 

"I  never  was  more  serious  in  my  life,  and  if 
you  have  been  bad  to  mamma,  you  know  you 
ought  to  be  punished." 

"  I  'd  a  heap  rather  be  whipped  a  little  bit 
than  to  be  put  to  bed,"  said  the  little  boy  with  a 
sigh.  "Will  you  please  tell  mamma  I  'm  awful 
sorry?  But  you  mustn't  ask  her  to  let  me  get 
up,  'cause  then  I  might  forget  about  it  and  be 
bad  again  some  other  time." 

After  mamma  had  come  in  the  room  and 
kissed  her  little  boy  and  told  him  she  loved  him 
and  that  she  knew  he  did  not  mean  to  be  bad,  he 


CATCHING  BIRDS.  153 

turned  over  in  bed,  as  if  he  were  resigned  to  any 
kind  of  punishment;  then  he  turned  back  again, 
and  said  pleadingly:  "Papa,  won't  you  tell  me 
about  some  time  when  you  were  bad  and  had 
to  go  in  the  dark  closet?" 

"Not  to-night,  little  man;  that  would  be 
like  arresting  a  fellow  and  then  sending  him  to 
the  hotel  instead  of  to  jail.  Some  time,  though, 
I  will  tell  you.  Good-bye,  now.  Mamma  will 
send  you  up  some  supper  after  a  while,  and  then 
you  must  go  to  sleep."  And  papa  kissed  the 
little  boy  and  went  down  on  the  porch,  but  he 
was  restless  and  didn't  read  the  paper  very  long, 
and  didn't  seem  to  be  contented  until  he  found 
himself  down  in  the  basement  working  away 
like  everything  on  a  wagon  that  he  was  making 
for  the  little  prisoner.  Next  evening,  when 
papa  had  read  the  paper  and  was  watching  the 
boy  play  with  the  wagon  that  he  had  finished 
the  evening  before,  the  little  fellow  came  and 
stood  beside  him. 

' '  Now,  daddy,  tell  me  about  some  time  when 
you  were  a  bad  little  boy,  and  what  they  did 
to  you." 

' '  Well,  let 's  see.  I  was  bad  so  many  times 
that  I  hardly  know  which  time  to  tell  you  about. 
Oh,  yes!  I  '11  tell  you  about  the  time  Henry  and 


154  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

Jimmy  and  I  caught  so  many  birds  and  grandpa 
got  after  us  about  it;  but  you  mustn't  tell  any 
of  the  boys  about  this,  because  they  might  go 
and  do  the  very  same  thing.  I  know  you  won't 
do  it  yourself,  because  I  am  telling  you  right 
now  how  wrong  and  how  foolish  it  is." 

"  I  won't  tell  anybody  at  a-1-1,"  said  the  lit- 
tle boy,  drawing  out  the  last  word  as  long  as 
he  could  and  gravely  shaking  his  head;  "  'cause 
you  know  we  talks  lots  of  secrets  that  we  don't 
tell  a-n-y-body,  don't  we,  papa?" 

Papa  smiled  and  said:  "That's  right.  I 
know  you  won't  tell. 

"Well,  you  know  where  we  lived  our  yard 
was  about  as  big  as  two  whole  blocks  here  in  the 
city,  and  was  full  of  trees  of  all  kinds.  There 
were  a  great  many  cedar-trees,  and  they  were  so 
thick  and  the  branches  so  close  that  it  was  a 
great  place  for  the  birds  to  roost,  so  about  dusk 
every  evening  the  birds  would  begin  to  gather 
from  all  around  the  neighborhood.  There  were 
lots  of  doves,  but  they  roosted  in  the  apple- 
trees.  In  the  cedar-trees,  though,  there  were 
robins  and  sparrows  and  jaybirds,  and  a  few 
redbirds  and  bluebirds,  and  several  other  kinds. 
Late  in  the  evening,  just  as  it  began  to  get  dark, 
we  would  go  past  a  big,  bushy  cedar-tree  with 


CATCHING  BIRDS.  155 

our  hands  full  of  rocks,  and  when  one  would  say, 
'  Ready! '  we  would  all  throw  in  the  tree  at  once, 
and  out  would  fly  a  whole  flock  of  birds  of  all 
kinds.  Sometimes  one  would  fall  dead  or  crip- 
pled under  the  tree,  and  then  we  would  feel  very 
mean;  but  the  temptation  to  throw  at  something 
was  so  strong  that  we  would  go  ahead  and  throw 
in  the  other  trees.  We  had  been  at  that  only  a 
few  days,  though,  when  grandpa  caught  us.  I 
think  some  town  boy  had  put  Henry  up  to  that 
mischief,  and  he  had  got  the  rest  of  us  into  it. 
Well,  the  first  time  grandpa  caught  us  at  that, 
he  gave  us  such  a  talking-to  that  we  felt  very 
sheepish,  and  we  stopped  our  throwing  for  a 
while;  but  one  evening,  when  we  saw  the  birds 
unusually  thick,  we  armed  ourselves  with  rocks, 
and  all  threw  at  once  into  the  best  tree  we  could 
find.  A  lot  of  birds  flew  out,  and  one  robin  fell 
under  the  tree  and  fluttered  a  few  times  and  then 
was  dead.  Grandpa  was  watching  us,  and  he 
came  out  where  we  were,  and,  taking  Henry  and 
Jimmy  by  the  arms,  he  said,  '  Now  you  boys  go 
to  your  mammy.'  They  knew  what  that  meant, 
and  they  would  a  good  deal  rather  grandpa 
would  have  attended  to  them  himself,  because 
I  tell  you  Mammy  Maria  didn't  make  it  any 
play  matter  when  she  gave  those  little  darkies  a 


156  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

dressing-down.  Grandpa  took  me  by  the  arm 
and  led  me  right  under  a  big  peach-tree  and  into 
the  carriage-house,  and — well,  what  happened 
there  was  worth  a  good  deal  to  the  birds — and 
to  me  too,  I  suppose.  It  was  not  long  after  that 
when  Henry  told  us  that  if  we  wanted  a  nice  lot 
of  pet  birds,  he  knew  how  we  could  catch  them 
without  hurting  them  a  bit. 

"  'An'  dey  ain't  no  thin'  wrong  'bout  takin' 
keer  o'  pet  birds  in  a  cage,'  said  Henry.  'De 
bestes'  kin'  o'  people  has  pet  birds,  an'  you  kin 
feed  'em  an'  take  keer  ob  'em  bettah  'an  dey  kin 
take  keer  o'  deyse'ves.' 

' '  Of  course  we  wanted  to  know  how  it  could 
be  done,  and  Henry  told  us  that  it  was  '  jes'  as 
easy  as  goin'  out  an'  pickin'  'em  up.'  All  we 
had  to  do  was  to  wait  until  the  birds  had  settled 
in  the  trees,  and  then  take  a  candle  and  go  under 
the  trees  real  quietly.  The  light  from  the  candle 
would  blind  the  birds,  and  we  could  just  pick 
them  right  off  the  roost.  We  did  not  more 
than  half  believe  that  it  could  be  done,  but  we 
could  hardly  wait  for  night  to  come  so  that  we 
could  try  it.  We  got  our  candles  ready,  and 
soon  after  dark  we  went  out.  We  sneaked  up 
under  a  bushy  cedar-tree,  and  then  suddenly 


CATCHING  BIRDS.  157 

put  the  candle  up  in  the  branches.  At  the  first 
tree  we  tried  we  scared  all  the  birds  out  without 
getting  any,  but  the  next  time  we  caught  two 
robins  and  a  redbird;  at  the  next  we  caught 
several  sparrows  and  two  bluebirds.  Before 
we  stopped  we  had  nearly  a  dozen  birds  of  one 
kind  and  another  in  the  box  we  had  brought 
along.  When  we  took  them  to  the  house  we 
were  terribly  surprised  to  find  that  grandpa  and 
grandma  did  not  believe  in  keeping  pet  birds  at 
all,  and  that  anyway  there  was  a  big  difference 
between  birds  raised  in  a  cage  and  those  caught 
out  of  the  trees.  Grandpa  explained  that  these 
birds  would  never  get  gentle  and  that  they  would 
always  try  to  get  away,  even  if  they  lived ;  but 
that  the  chances  were  that  not  one  in  a  dozen 
birds  caught  in  that  way  would  live. 

"  'Why,'  said  grandpa,  'most  of  these  birds 
have  little  mates  sitting  on  their  nests  right  now, 
and  some  of  them  have  little  birds  depending  on 
them  for  all  they  get  to  eat. 

"'Now,'  said  grandpa,  looking  serious,  'the 
birds  are  pretty  and  innocent,  and  make  the 
sweetest  music  in  the  world  around  here  every 
day,  and,  besides,  they  catch  lots  of  bugs  and 
worms  that  would  almost  ruin  the  garden  and 


158  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

the  trees;  and  I  never  want  to  have  to  tell  you 
boys  any  more  to  let  the  birds  alone.  Do  you 
hear?  Now  go  and  turn  those  birds  loose,  every 
one  of  them.' 

"And  grandpa  never  had  any  more  trouble 
with  us  about  birds." 


THE   MILL-DAM. 

{£  l  "X  ADDY,  tell  me  a  story  about  you  and 
I  the  niggah  boys  getting  in  the  branch 
and  getting  all  wet,"  pleaded  the 
little  boy. 

"Oh!  that  was  when  we  were  little  bits  of  fel- 
lows," said  papa;  "and  besides,  I  have  told  you 
that  so  often  that  you  are  tired  hearing  it.  Let 
me  tell  you  something  about  the  branch  and 
about  when  we  grew  to  be  larger  boys." 

"All  right,"  said  the  little  boy;  "and  when 
the  baby  gets  as  big  as  I  used  to  be  when  you 
told  me  that  story,  you  '11  tell  him  about  it, 
won't  you?  and  I  can  listen  and  help  you  tell 
it,  can't  I?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  papa,  smiling  at  the 
little  boy's  scheme  to  get  to  hear  the  same  story 
again.  ' '  But  now  about  that  branch.  You  know 
there  was  a  little  bit  of  a  branch  that  ran  out  of 
the  spring-house  and  under  the  little  culvert  and 
then  ran  off  down  the  hollow  and  emptied  into 
the  big  branch  that  came  through  the  big  culvert 
under  the  turnpike.  When  there  had  been  a 

159 


160  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

good  deal  of  rain,  the  little  branch  would  be  full 
of  water,  and  we  could  wade  in  it  and  have  lots 
of  fun.  About  half-way  down  to  the  big  branch 
there  was  a  big  flat  rock  in  the  bottom,  and  the 
water  spread  out  over  the  rock  and  fell  down 
about  two  feet  into  a  deep  hole.  That  is  where 
we  used  to  make  our  water-mills." 

"Sure-enough  water-mills  that  would -run?" 
cried  the  little  boy.  "Tell  me  all  about  them." 

"Of  course  they  would  run.  We  would 
take  a  dry  corn-stalk  and  split  it  up  into  flat 
blades  and  stick  these  blades  through  another 
piece  of  corn-stalk;  then  we  would  set  up  a 
forked  stick  on  each  side  of  the  branch  just 
under  where  the  water  fell,  and  put  the  ends  of 
the  corn-stalk  in  the  forks  of  the  sticks;  then 
the  water,  falling  on  the  blades,  would  make  the 
wheel  turn  and  splash  water  like  a  sure-enough 
mill.  We  called  that  aflutter-mill. 

' '  One  time  grandpa  made  us  a  big  wheel  out 
of  pine,  with  big,  broad  paddles  on  it,  and  built 
a  little  wooden  house  that  looked  just  like  a  miii, 
and  he  put  a  leather  belt  on  the  wheel  and  fixed 
it  so  it  would  turn  two  round  pieces  of  wood 
that  looked  like  real  mill-stones.  The  mill  had 
windows  in  it  and  you  could  look  in  the  windows 
and  see  the  mill-stones  turning  just  like  a  sure- 
enough  mill. 


ELEPHANT,  TIGERS,  AND    BIRDS    OF    PARADISE. 


THE  MILL-DAM.  163 

"One  day  we  got  tired  playing  in  the  little 
branch  and  went  down  to  the  big  branch.  It 
was  a  very  dry  time,  and  there  was  very  little 
water  in  the  little  branch — so  little  that  it  would 
not  even  turn  a  flutter-mill — so  we  went  where 
we  could  get  more  water.  Even  the  big  branch 
was  running  pretty  slow,  so  we  concluded  we 
would  build  a  dam  across  it  like  one  we  had  seen 
across  the  big  creek,  where  the  sure-enough  corn- 
mill  was;  so  we  got  a  hoe  and  some  shovels,  and 
rolled  up  our  pants,  and  went  to  work.  We 
worked  all  day,  digging  and  piling  up  dirt,  and  I 
expect  that  if  we  had  been  made  to  work  that 
hard  all  day  pulling  or  cutting  weeds  out  of  the 
garden,  we  would  have  been  tired  almost  to 
death.  We  made  a  wall  of  dirt  clear  across  the 
branch,  except  right  in  the  middle;  we  left  that 
open  at  first  so  the  water  could  get  through  and 
not  get  in  the  way  of  our  work.  We  piled  the 
dirt  up  about  two  feet  high,  and  made  it  wide  at 
the  bottom,  so  it  would  not  wash  away  easily; 
then  we  carried  big,  flat  rocks  and  put  them  on 
both  sides  of  the  ridge  of  dirt  to  help  hold  it. 
After  we  got  everything  else  done,  we  filled  up 
the  opening  we  had  left  in  the  middle  just  as 
quickly  as  we  could,  and  put  several  big,  flat 
rocks  against  it.  Of  course,  we  had  dug  the 


164  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

place  above  the  dam  a  good  deal  deeper  than  it 
had  been  at  first,  and  all  together  it  was  about 
three  feet  deep  from  the  bottom  of  the  hole  to 
the  top  of  the  dam.  By  the  time  we  got  through 
it  was  nearly  night,  and  oh,  we  were  tired  and 
muddy!" 

"Did  grandma  get  after  you  about  being 
muddy?"  asked  the  little  boy,  thinking  of  some 
of  his  own  troubles  in  that  direction. 

"No;  we  had  on  some  of  our  oldest  clothes, 
and  they  all  knew  what  we  were  doing,  and  they 
just  let  us  get  muddy.  Your  Uncle  Ben  was  a 
pretty  big  chunk  of  a  boy  at  that  time,  and  there 
were  four  of  us  in  it,  but  Uncle  Ben  wasn't  big 
enough  to  do  much  of  anything  but  get  muddy 
and  wet. 

' '  Before  we  went  to  the  house  that  night  we 
could  see  our  lake  beginning  to  fill  up  nicely,  and 
when  we  went  down  to  the  branch  next  morning 
it  was  full  clear  up  to  the  top  and  running  over. 
Oh,  it  wras  a  fine  lake!  It  was  about  eight  feet 
across,  and  the  water  was  deep  away  back  up 
the  branch  quite  a  long  way.  The  first  thing 
we  did  was  to  roll  up  our  pants  and  take  a  good 
wade,  but  we  didn't  go  in  the  deepest  part,  for 
that  would  have  got  our  clothes  wet,  and  the 
water  would  have  been  almost  up  to  our  necks. 


THE  MILIv-DAM.  165 

"That  day  and  the  next  we  had  everybody 
on  the  place  making  boats.  We  had  steamboats 
with  big  smokestacks,  and  one  of  them  even  had 
a  big  paddle-wheel  at  the  back  of  it  that  turned 
and  splashed  water  like  everything  when  the 
boat  was  going.  We  pulled  the  boats  with 
strings  and  furnished  the  puffing  and  whistle 
with  our  mouths.  Then  we  had  a  lot  of  flat- 
boats  that  we  would  put  in  front  of  the  steam- 
boats and  pretend  that  they  were  being  towed 
by  the  steamboats,  just  as  we  had  seen  them  on 
the  river.  We  loaded  the  boats  with  small  rocks 
for  coal,  and  we  broke  up  sticks  and  piled  them 
up  on  the  boats  for  flour-barrels  and  tobacco 
hogsheads. 

' '  Finally  we  concluded  that  we  would  take  a 
load  of  horses  and  mules  down  to  New  Orleans, 
so  when  we  went  to  the  house  to  dinner  we  gath- 
ered up  about  six  kittens,  two  or  three  chickens, 
and  the  pup.  The  kittens  were  the  mules,  and 
we  had  a  terrible  time  to  get  the  mules  to  stay 
on  the  boats.  At  last  we  tied  them  on  two  of 
the  flatboats. 

"  'Let  's  play  it  's  a  circus,  and  have  the  pup 
for  the  elephant,'  said  one  of  the  boys;  so  we  im- 
mediately turned  the  mules  into  tigers  and  lions. 
and  the  chickens  into  wild  birds,  and  the  pup 


166  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

from  a  horse  into  an  elephant,  and  started  out 
with  the  whole  show.  We  had  the  kittens  on 
two  of  the  flatboats,  the  chickens  on  another, 
and  the  elephant  on  the  steamboat.  When  we 
got  them  about  half-way  across  the  pond,  the 
elephant  got  over  on  one  side  of  the  boat  and 
upset  it.  That  knocked  the  boats  full  of  tigers 
and  lions  over,  and  the  birds  of  paradise  and 
fine  ostriches  all  went  over  with  them.  You 
never  saw  such  a  splatter  and  scramble  of  an- 
imals in  your  life.  The  elephant  didn't  mind  it 
a  bit,  and  just  proceeded  to  swim  ashore  and 
wag  his  tail;  but  the  tigers  and  lions  spit  and 
sneezed  and  spluttered  and  meowed  terribly. 
Some  of  the  fine  birds  came  near  drowning  be- 
fore we  could  bring  them  to  shore,  and  two  of  us 
got  our  clothes  all  wet  and  got  scratched  by  the 
wild  beasts  like  everything  before  we  managed 
to  straighten  things  out  again.  That  night  we 
got  a  scolding  for  the  way  we  treated  the  chick- 
ens and  cats,  so  we  went  out  of  the  live-stock 
and  show-transporting  business. 

"The  next  day  we  dug  a  little  ditch  around 
the  hillside,  leading  from  the  lake  to  a  point  be- 
low it,  so  that  when  the  lake  was  full  the  extra 
water  would  run  out  that  way  instead  of  over 
the  dam.  We  fixed  it  like  mill-races  we  had 


THE  MILL-DAM.  167 

seen  at  sure-enough  mills,  and  where  it  emptied 
into  the  branch,  we  built  our  mill  again. 

"We  played  around  that  lake  every  day  for 
over  a  week,  starting  something  new  nearly 
every  day.  Grandpa  let  a  carpenter,  who  was 
doing  some  work  at  the  stable,  make  us  a  fine, 
big  boat,  and  put  two  side  wheels  on  it,  and  one 
of  the  men  painted  it  for  us,  and  he  painted  her 
name,  Water  Queen,  in  red  letters  on  her  side. 
The  rest  of  the  boat  was  painted  white. 

1 '  One  morning  when  we  got  up  it  was  raining 
hard,  and  we  couldn't  go  down  to  the  branch  all 
day.  Next  morning  the  sun  was  out,  and  as 
soon  as  we  had  our  breakfast,  away  we  went  in 
great  excitement  to  see  our  lake. 

"  'I  '11  bet  that  old  mill-race  is  jes'  a-boomin' 
and  the  mill-wheel  a-turnin'  like  sixty,'  said  one 
of  the  boys. 

"  'An'  de  Watah  Queen  jes'  a-dancin'  on  de 
wabes,'  said  Jimmy. 

' '  When  we  came  in  sight  of  the  branch,  it  was 
twice  as  high  as  we  had  ever  seen  it  and  was 
running  fast  and  roaring  like  everything,  and  was 
muddy  and  had  sticks  of  wood  and  pieces  of 
bark  and  weeds  and  all  sorts  of  things  in  it. 
We  started  on  a  run  to  our  lake,  beginning  to 
wonder  if  any  of  it  had  been  washed  away. 


168  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

When  we  got  there  the  branch  was  running  over 
the  place  just  as  if  there  had  never  been  a  darn 
there.  There  wasn't  a  thing  left.  Our  beauti- 
ful boats  that  we  had  left  tied  up  to  the  bank 
were  all  gone,  and  the  mill  was  gone  too.  We 
couldn't  find  a  thing.  The  dam  had  all  disap- 
peared— we  couldn't  even  find  the  place  where 
it  had  been.  We  felt  pretty  bad,  I  tell  you,  and 
I  suppose  if  Uncle  Ben  had  been  with  us  that 
morning  and  discovered  that  his  particular  boat 
had  been  washed  away,  we  would  have  had  some 
pretty  good  howling.  He  was  a  brave  little  fel- 
low, though,  and  didn't  do  very  much  crying. 

"Well,  we  went  to  the  house  with  very  seri- 
ous faces,  and  just  as  we  got  to  the  big  side  porch 
grandpa  called  us  from  the  cabin.  We  went  to 
him,  and  there  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  was  our 
whole  collection  of  boats,  mill,  and  everything, 
and  Uncle  Ben  down  on  the  floor  playing  with 
them  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened. 

"  'Why.  papa!'  I  cried,  running  and  grab- 
bing him  around  the  neck;  'where  did  you  find 
them?' 

"  'Well,'  said  grandpa,  'I  saw  that  storm 
coming  up  the  other  night  after  you  boys  were 
all  sound  asleep,  and  went  down  to  the  branch 
and  got  your  boats  and  things.  Sorry  I  couldn't 


THE  MILI/-DAM.  169 

bring  the  dam  along,  but  I  couldn't  save  that.' 
"  'Well,  you  are  the  best  daddy  that  ever 
lived,'  I  said,  giving  him  another  hug. 
"And  I  believe  he  was,  too,'  "  said  papa. 
"I  Ve  got  a  pretty  good  one  myself,"  said 
the  little  boy,  giving  his  own  papa  a  good,  tight 
hug.    " But,  goodness  me!  what  a  good  time  you 
must  have  had  when  you  were  a  little  boy ! ' ' 


THE  WOODS  OWL. 


ONE  DAY  late  in  the  fall  the  men  were 
cutting  down  some  big  sugar- trees. 
The  trees  were  partly  decayed  and  full 
of  holes,  and  they  were  cutting  them  down  to 
get  them  out  of  the  way  of  the  young  trees.  The 
hollow  places  in  those  trees  had  all  sorts  of 
things  in  them; 
one  had  a  big  rac- 
coon in  it,  and 
when  the  tree  fell, 
out  jumped  old 
Mr.  Coon,  and  all 
the  dogs  jumped 
on  him  at  once. 
S  h  e  p  was  there 
and  two  other 

dogs  that  belonged  to  one  of  the  neighbors. 
The  coon  tried  his  best  to  get  away,  but  the 
dogs  were  right  after  him.  He  would  back  up 
against  a  tree  and  look  as  if  he  would  turn 
over  on  his  back,  and  then  the  first  dog  that 
ran  in  on  him  got  his  face  clawed  and  his  nose 

170 


"On-twis>  'imi     On-twis'  'im." 


THE  WOODS  OWL.  171 

bitten  by  the  coon.  There  was  a  creek  close 
by,  and  at  last  the  coon  reached  the  creek, 
then  he  jumped  in,  still  holding  to  one  of  the 
dogs  by  the  nose,  and  they  both  went  under. 
The  coon  didn't  mind  it  a  bit,  but  the  dog  was 
nearly  drowned,  and  if  there  had  been  but  one 
dog,  the  coon  would  have  whipped  him;  but  be- 
fore long  all  the  dogs  got  hold  of  him  at  once, 
and  then  poor  old  Mr.  Coon  had  to  give  up. 
One  of  the  men  in  the  neighborhood  made  a  fine 
cap  out  of  his  skin,  just  like  those  Daniel  Boone 
and  Simon  Kenton  used  to  wear. 

After  the  coon  was  killed,  the  men  went  back 
to  the  tree,  and  in  one  of  the  holes  they  found  an 
old  owl  and  caught  it;  they  brought  it  to  the 
house  at  noon  and  gave  it  to  me,  and  told  me  all 
about  the  coon-fight.  The  owl  was  larger  than 
a  screech  owl,  but  not  as  large  as  a  horned  owl. 
He  was  what  we  call  a  woods  owl.  Well,  when 
we  got  through  asking  questions  about  the  coon- 
fight,  and  quarreling  because  they  had  not  taken 
us  with  them,  we  turned  our  attention  to  the  owl. 
We  were  getting  to  be  pretty  big  boys  then. 
Henry  was  about  eleven  and  Jimmy  and  I  ten 
and  your  Uncle  Ben  just  five.  Uncle  John  told 
us  that  the  owl  couldn't  see  very  well  in  day- 
light, so  they  caught  him  without  any  trouble; 


172  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

but  we  had  always  known  that;  we  had  known  it 
ever  since  we  were  babies.  Owls'  eyes  are  made 
that  way,  so  they  can  see  to  hunt  at  night. 
Well,  Uncle  John  tied  a  string  to  the  owl's  leg 
and  tied  him  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  kitchen, 
and  every  time  anyone  went  near  him,  he  would 
raise  his  wings  and  snap  his  bill  so  hard  and  fast 
that  it  sounded  like  bones  rattling.  We  didn't 
get  very  close  to  him,  either,  and  no  matter 
which  way  I  would  turn  when  I  was  close  to 
him,  he  would  keep  his  eyes  on  me.  Finally, 
Uncle  John  said  that  if  we  would  take  the  owl 
out  in  the  yard  and  tie  him  to  a  stake  and  then 
walk  around  him — 'round  and  'round  a  great 
many  times — the  owl  would  keep  turning  his 
head  watching  the  boy  that  was  going  around 
him  until  he  would  twist  his  head  off.  It  didn't 
take  us  long  to  try  it.  Henry  and  I  grabbed  the 
string  and  dragged  the  poor  old  owl  out  in  the 
yard,  his  wings  flapping  and  his  bill  snapping 
like  everything.  We  drove  a  stake  in  the  ground 
and  tied  the  owl  to  it,  and  then  I  said:  "I  bid 
to  go  around  him.  Now,  you  boys  keep  still,  so 
he  will  watch  me."  So  off  I  started  around  the 
owl,  very  slowly  at  first,  because  I  wanted  to  see 
how  he  would  go  about  twisting  his  head  off. 
When  I  had  got  directly  behind  him,  I  stopped, 


THE  WOODS  OWL.  173 

and  there  was  his  bill  still  pointing  at  me  and  his 
two  big  yellow  eyes  looking  right  into  my  face; 
then  I  started  up  slowly  and  the  owl's  bill  start- 
ed at  the  same  time,  just  like  the  hand  of  a  clock. 
I  got  back  to  where  I  had  started,  and  there 
were  the  owl's  eyes  still  looking  straight  at  me. 
I  went  around  again,  and  the  owl's  head  kept 
turning;  then  I  went  a  little  faster,  but  the 
owl's  head  kept  following  me.  I  was  beginning 
to  feel  pretty  mean,  but  I  wanted  to  see  just 
what  would  happen,  so  I  kept  on  going. 

Henry  and  Jimmy  were  getting  terribly  ex- 
cited, and  Henry  yelled  out:  ' '  Oh,  he  's  a-twis'in' 
it  off!  Hit  's  a-comin'!  Jes'  look  at  de  fedders 
a-raisin'  'roun'  his  neck!  Keep  a-goin'!  Keep 
a-goin' !  Hit  's  put 'n  nigh  off ! " 

Then  Jimmy  broke  in :  "On-twis' 'im!  On- 
twis'  'im!  I  wouldn't  kill  no  po'  bird  dat  a-way 
— no,  I  wouldn't.  On-twis'  'im!  Hit  's  put'n 
nigh  off  now!" 

I  was  beginning  to  feel  very  sorry  for  what  I 
had  done,  so  I  turned  and  ran  the  other  way  as 
fast  as  I  could  until  I  thought  I  had  run  around 
as  many  times  as  I  had  the  first  way. 

"Go  'roun'  'im  once  mo'!"  yelled  Jimmy. 
"You  went  de  uddah  way  ten  times,  and  you 
didn't  go  dis  a-way  but  nine  times;  I  counted." 


174  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"No,  it  was  nine  times  bofe  ways,"  insisted 
Henry.  "I  counted,  too." 

"I  knows  bettah,"  said  Jimmy.  "He's  still 
got  a  twis'  in  he's  neck.  See  dem  fedders  all 
ruffled  up?" 

I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  as  I  hadn't  count- 
ed, so  I  stood  still  and  watched  the  owl,  and 
while  I  was  watching,  the  "ruffles"  came  out  of 
his  feathers  and  they  lay  down  as  smooth  on  his 
neck  as  they  had  at  first. 

"Oh!  I  reckon  he's  all  right,"  I  said;  "but 
I  'd  like  to  feel  and  see  if  he  has  got  a  twist  in  his 
neck."  But  when  I  went  to  feel  it,  his  bill 
snapped  so  fast  that  I  ran  the  risk  of  leaving  the 
twist  in  his  neck,  and  let  him  alone.  "I  believe 
his  neck  is  made  out  of  Injy  rubber,  anyhow,"  I 
said  as  I  stood  back. 

"Maybe  his  head's  set  on  a  kind  of  swivel," 
suggested  Henry,  "an'  when  he  dies  I'm  a-goin' 
to  fin'  out." 

"Oh,  you  boys  all  de  time  wantin'  to  kill 
sumpin' ! "  said  Jimmy,  who  was  a  tender-hearted 
boy.  "I'm  gwine  to  turn  'im  loose  an'  let  'im 
straighten  he's  neck  out  hese'f.  He  sholy  got  a 
awful  tough  neck,  dough." 

About  that  time  your  grandpa  came  along, 
and  we  all  tried  to  tell  him  about  it  at  once. 


THE  WOODS  OWL.  175 

Grandpa  listened  the  best  he  could,  and  then  he 
said: 

"Now,  let  me  tell  you  about  that  owl's  neck. 
When  you  go  around  him,  he  follows  you  with 
his  eyes  until  his  bill  is  where  the  back  of  his 
head  ought  to  be,  then  he  turns  it  back  clear 
around  the  other  way  so  quickly  you  can't  see 
him  do  it  unless  you  watch  very  closely.  Now 
look  while  I  walk  around  him." 

And  sure  enough,  we  could  all  see  him  do  it 
when  we  looked  closely  and  knew  what  he  was 
going  to  do,  for  we  never  doubted  grandpa;  we 
always  knew  that  he  would  tell  us  exactly  what 
was  true,  and  we  believed  that  he  knew  every- 
thing. 

That  night  grandpa  told  us  to  turn  the  owl 
loose,  and  he  untied  the  string  and  let  the  owl  go, 
and  it  slipped  away  so  quietly  in  the  moonlight 
that  you  would  have  thought  it  was  just  a  big 
shadow  gliding  off  among  the  trees. 


SHEP  AND  THE   LAMB. 

44  /^"NH!  YOU  can't  drive  sheeps  and  cows, 

II  and  bark  at  burgles;  you 's  des  a  play 
dog,"  said  the  little  boy  one  evening 
as  he  threw  his  woolly  toy  dog  over  in  the  cor- 
ner with  the  rest  of  his  playthings. 

"Tell  me  a  sure-enough  story  about  a  sure- 
enough  dog,"  he  said  as  he  put  both  hands  on 
his  papa's  knees.  "Can't  you  think  of  one 
about  Shep?" 

: '  You  just  reminded  me  of  one,  and  a  good 
one,  too,"  said  papa  as  he  helped  the  little  boy 
to  climb  up  on  his  lap. 

"One  time  early  in  the  spring  grandpa  had 
about  fifty  fine  sheep.  He  kept  them  all  day 
long  in  a  nice  grassy  lot  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  house,  and  at  night  put  them  in  a  big  shed 
back  of  the  barn.  He  kept  them  there  at  night 
so  the  dogs  wouldn't  kill  them,  for  you  know  bad 
dogs  kill  sheep  like  everything,  and  there  are 
mean  dogs  in  every  neighborhood.  Well,  every 
morning  grandpa  would  let  the  sheep  out  and 
open  the  gate  from  the  barn-lot  into  the  lane 

176 


HE    CARRIED    THE    LAMB    AND    THEY    FOLLOWED. 


SHEP  AND  THE  LAMB.  179 

and  drive  them  down  the  lane  to  the  turnpike; 
then  he  would  open  another  gate  and  let  them 
out  on  the  turnpike  and  drive  them  to  the  lot 
where  they  stayed  all  day.  Shep  always  went 
with  him,  and  pretty  soon  all  that  grandpa 
would  have  to  do  was  to  go  ahead  and  open 
the  gates,  and  Shep  would  come  trotting  along 
behind  the  sheep.  Along  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  sun  was  about  to  set,  grandpa  would 
go  and  bring  the  sheep  home.  Shep  would  al- 
ways be  waiting  outside  on  the  porch  or  out  in 
the  yard,  and  would  go  along  and  help. 

One  afternoon  grandpa  was  real  busy  about 
something  else,  and  it  was  very  late  before  he  was 
ready  to  start.  When  he  went  out  and  looked 
around  for  Shep  he  couldn't  see  him  anywhere; 
then  he  called  him,  but  Shep  was  nowhere  to 
be  found. 

'  Well,  I  wonder  what  has  become  of  Shep  ? ' 
he  said.  '  I  heard  him  barking  out  there  a  little 
while  ago,  and  I  thought  he  was  barking  then 
for  me  to  come  on  and  go  after  the  sheep,  and 
now  I  can't  find  him.' 

' '  So  grandpa  went  on  by  himself,  wondering 
all  the  time  what  had  become  of  the  dog,  and  a 
little  disappointed  in  him  because  he  had  gone 
away  just  when  he  was  needed  to  help  bring  the 


180  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

sheep  home.  He  had  been  bragging  that  Shep 
never  forgot  anything,  and  he  was  afraid  that  he 
had  bragged  on  the  dog  too  soon.  When  he 
reached  the  gate  of  the  sheep-lot,  there  were  all 
the  sheep  gathered  up  around  the  gate,  ready  to 
come  out  and  be  driven  home,  and  what  do  you 
think?  There  was  Shep  behind  them,  running 
back  and  forth  to  keep  them  from  straying  away. 

"  'Well!  well!  well!'  said  grandpa.  'Shep, 
you  are  the  smartest  dog  I  ever  saw.' 

"Then  Shep  barked  and  smiled.  Don't  you 
think  a  dog  can  smile?  I  do.  He  can  look 
pleasant  and  unpleasant,  anyway,  and  Shep 
looked  so  pleasant  when  he  was  particularly 
pleased  about  anything  that  you  would  think  he 
was  going  to  laugh  right  out  loud. 

"Well,  grandpa  opened  the  gate,  and  the 
sheep  came  running  out. 

"  'Come  on,  Shep,'  he  said;  'come  on,  now; 
it  's  getting  late.'  But  Shep  only  stood  and 
looked  at  grandpa  a  minute,  and  then  started  off 
down  through  the  lot,  barking  and  looking  back. 

"  'Well,'  said  grandpa  to  himself,  ' I  couldn't 
count  those  sheep  as  they  crowded  through  the 
gate,  and  I  '11  bet  that  dog  knows  there  's  an- 
other one  somewhere.  Go  on,  Shep;  I  'm  com- 
ing,' he  said,  and  then  away  they  went  down 
through  the  lot,  grandpa  walking  fast  and  Shep 


*  SHEP  AND  THE  LAMB.  181 

jumping  up  and  barking  and  then  running  a  little 
way  ahead.  He  led  grandpa  to  the  far  corner  of 
the  lot,  and  there  behind  a  big  alder-bush  was 
an  old  sheep  and  a  little  young  lamb.  She 
stamped  her  foot  and  shook  her  head  at  Shep, 
but  he  didn't  try  to  go  close  to  her.  He  just  sat 
down  and  wagged  his  tail  at  grandpa,  as  much 
as  to  say,  '  There,  now.  Wasn't  I  right  ?  That 's 
what  I  wanted  to  tell  you.' 

"Then  grandpa  patted  Shep  on  the  head, 
and  said:  'Well!  well!  well!  Shep,  you  surely 
are  a  wonder.  Good  old  smart  dog.  I  knew 
there  was  something  you  wanted  to  tell  me.' 

' '  Then  grandpa  went  and  picked  up  the  lamb, 
and  the  old  sheep  just  touched  him  with  her 
nose  and  didn't  butt  him  at  all;  then  away  they 
all  went,  grandpa  carrying  the  lamb  and  the  old 
sheep  following  close  at  his  heels  and  Shep  trot- 
ting along  behind.  Every  once  in  a  while  the 
little  lamb  would  go,  '  Ma-a-a,'  and  the  old  sheep 
would  say,  '  Ba-a-a,'  and  in  a  little  while  the  big 
flock  of  sheep  was  in  the  shed,  the  old  sheep  and 
lamb  were  in  a  little  place  to  themselves,  Shep 
was  in  his  box  on  the  back  porch,  and  grandpa 
was  in  the  house,  telling  the  rest  of  the  family 
how  smart  the  dog  was." 


THE  LOOM-HOUSE. 


^  IV I OW*,  I  believe  I  '11  tell  you  one  on  grand- 

\    pa,"  said  papa  one  day  when  he  and  the 

little  boy  had  been  talking  about  real 

old,  old  times. 

"This  is  one  grandpa 
told  me  himself.  You 
know,  when  he  was  a  lit- 
tle boy  it  was  away  back 
in  early  times,  and  you 
couldn't  go  to  the  store 
and  buy  things  ready 
made  as  you  can  now. 
'Most  all  the  clothes  that 
they  wore  were  made 
from  the  cotton  and  flax 
and  wool  raised  right  on 
their  own  farm. 

' '  They  had  a  big  house,  called  the  loom-house, 
where  the  cloth  was  woven.  Grandpa's  mother 
had  two  negro  women  who  did  nothing  but 
weave  cloth,  and  another  one  or  two  who  spent 
their  time  making  clothes.  All  of  the  clothes 

182 


"They  were  coming  in." 


THE  LOOM-HOUSE.  183 

for  the  negroes  and  nearly  all  for  the  big  family 
of  boys  were  made  from  this  home-made  cloth. 

"Grandpa  said  that  one  day  when  he  was 
a  boy  about  ten  years  old  he  tore  a  great  big 
hole  in  his  breeches.  They  always  called  them 
'breeches'  in  those  days.  He  asked  his  mother 
for  another  pair,  but  she  said: 

"  'No;  you 'can't  have  another  pair.  You 
boys  would  tear  up  all  the  clothes  that  Tildy  and 
Mary  could  make,  if  I  would  let  you.  Just  go 
into  the  loom-house  and  throw  your  breeches  out 
to  Tildy,  and  she  will  mend  them  for  you.' 

"So  he  did  as  he  was  told,  and  when  he  had 
thrown  those  breeches  out  the  window,  he  had 
nothing  left  on  him  but  a  long  coarse  cotton 
shirt. 

"Well,  about  the  time  the  negro  girl  started 
to  fix  the  breeches,  some  company  came  in,  and 
her  mistress  called  her  for  something  else,  and 
they  both  forgot  all  about  the  half-clothed  boy 
in  the  loom-house.  He  waited  and  waited,  and 
at  last  he  heard  someone  coming.  He  peeped 
out  the  window,  and,  instead  of  seeing  Tildy 
coming  with  his  clothes,  there  was  his  mother 
with  a  lot  of  company,  and  lady  company  at 
that.  They  might  be  going  to  the  garden,  he 
thought,  but,  if  they  were,  it  was  a  round-about 


184  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

way  they  were  taking,  and  it  looked  mightily  to 
him  as  if  they  were  coming  directly  to  the  loom- 
house.  He  looked  around  quickly  to  see  where 
he  could  hide,  but  didn't  see  any  good,  safe  place. 
Then  he  thought  they  were  surely  going  some- 
where else;  then  he  heard  them  talking,  and, 
looking  out  through  a  crack,  saw  them  coming 
right  on  towards  the  door.  He  even  heard  them 
talking  about  a  new  carpet  that  his  mother  had 
on  the  carpet-loom. 

"There  was  an  empty  barrel  in  the  room, 
and,  as  it  was  a  case  of  getting  out  of  sight  some- 
where and  doing  it  in  a  hurry,  he  jumped  in  the 
barrel,  and  pulled  a  board  about  half-way  over 
the  top  of  it  just  as  his  mother  opened  the  door 
and  asked  the  ladies  in.  They  looked  at  the 
carpet  that  was  being  made  and  then  at  some 
cloth  and  the  flax  and  the  spinning-wheel. 

' '  '  Good  gracious ! '  he  said  to  himself ; '  there  ''s 
old  Mrs.  Durbin;  I  know  her  by  her  voice,  and 
if  she  can  get  out  of  here  without  looking  in  this 
barrel,  it  will  be  the  first  thing  that  she  ever 
failed  to  look  into.' 

"But  he  remembered  that  old  Mrs.  Durbin 
had  a  holy  horror  of  cats;  she  was  terribly 
afraid  of  them,  and  then  he  thought,  '  If  she  does 
peep  into  this  barrel,  I  'm  going  to  make  her 


THE  LOOM-HOUSE.  185 

think  there  's  the  biggest  cat  in  here  that  she 
ever  saw,  or  the  loudest  one  she  ever  heard,  any- 
way; but  I  hope  she  will  go  on  away  and  not 
notice  the  barrel.' 

"He  was  beginning  to  feel  awfully  cramped, 
but  finally  they  all  seemed  to  be  ready  to  go  out. 
Old  Mrs.  Durbin  alone  hung  back  and  kept  ask- 
ing questions.  Through  a  crack  in  the  barrel  he 
could  see  her  take  a  longing  look  at  the  trap- 
door in  the  loft,  but  there  were  no  steps  to  it; 
there  was  not  even  a  ladder. 

"Mrs.  Durbin  was  just  turning  away  with  a 
little  sigh  when  she  espied  the  barrel.  She 
turned  quickly,  and  carelessly  passed  by  the 
barrel  on  her  way  out.  As  she  went  by  it  she 
moved  the  board  over  a  little  to  one  side  and 
leaned  over  to  look  in.  Just  then  there  was  a 
most  awful  scratching  in  that  barrel,  and  some- 
thing said:  'M-e-o-w!  Sc!  Sc!  Phsit!  S-s-s-s!' 

"The  scream  that  old  Mrs.  Durbin  let  out 
would  have  awakened  the  dead,  if  there  had 
been  any  around  there,  but  they  were  all  very 
much  alive,  and  got  out  of  that  room  in  double- 
quick  time.  Old  Mrs.  Durbin  was  the  first  one 
out,  and  then  had  a  fainting  spell.  When  they 
brought  her  to  herself  again,  my  grandmother, 
who  was  a  quiet  woman  and  not  a  bit  nervous, 
started  back  to  drive  the  cat  out. 


186  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"  'Don't  go  in  there!'  wailed  old  Mrs.  Dur- 
bin;  'that's  no  ordinary  cat;  it's  a  wildcat. 
Don't  go.  Send  for  the  men  and  a  gun.  I  saw 
its  eyes  and  I  saw  it.  It 's  a  great  big  yellow 
wildcat.' 

"  '  Pshaw! '  said  my  grandmother,  who  was  a 
little  put  out.  '  It 's  nothing  but  old  Tom,  and  I 
don't  want  him  in  there.' 

"So  in  she  went,  while  the  other  ladies  took 
old  Mrs.  Durbin  to  the  house. 

"Grandpa  says  he  didn't  know  whether  to 
be  tickled  almost  to  death  or  to  be  scared  for 
fear  he  had  really  frightened  poor  old  Mrs.  Dur- 
bin into  a  serious  spell,  but  he  was  very  much 
inclined  to  laugh. 

"His  mother  walked  right  up  to  the  barrel 
and  took  the  board  off .  'Why,  Ben!  You  little 
rascal,'  she  said,  'you  ought  to  have  a  good 
thrashing.'  But  she  was  laughing  so  much  that 
she  could  hardly  talk,  and  grandpa  says  he  knew 
that  he  would  not  get  any  licking. 

"As  grandma  never  informed  Mrs.  Durbin 
whether  it  was  old  Tom  or  a  wildcat,  Mrs.  Dur- 
bin was  reasonably  well  satisfied  that  it  was  old 
Tom." 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR. 


^'^^OME  ON,  daddy,  tell  me  a  story  about 
l^  sure-enough  horses, ' '  said  the  little  boy 
one  night;  and  he  pushed  his  hobby- 
horse into  the  corner  and  came  and  stood  by  his 
father.  ' '  Sure-enough  horses  that  could  go  just 
lickety-split,"  he  added,  adopting  some  of  the 
horse- talk  he  had  heard  from  the  older  people. 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  the  first  time  I 
went  to  the  fair?"  asked  papa. 

' '  Did  they  have  horses  ? "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"Lots  and  lots  of  horses,"  said  papa. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me  right  now."  And  the  boy 
climbed  up  to  his  regular  place  and  waited. 

"Well,  I  believe  I  will,"  said  papa  slowly. 
' '  It  makes  an  old  fellow  feel  just  like  a  boy  again 
to  think  about  that  first  day  at  the  old  fair." 
And  papa  looked  away  off,  as  if  he  were  looking  at 
the  fair  again,  and  was  talking  as  much  to  him- 
self as  he  was  to  the  little  boy. 

"Goon,  daddy." 

"Well,  one  day  I  was  out  in  the  yard  under 
the  old  sweet-apple  tree,  filling  my  little  bread- 
is? 


188  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY 

wagon  with  apples.  Have  you  got  any  apples 
in  your  bread-wagon  now?"  said  papa,  rubbing 
the  little  boy's  stomach  with  his  hand. 

' '  Go  on,  daddy;   tell  me  about  the  horses. ' ' 

' '  Well,  I  was  eating  apples  and  watching  the 
leaves  beginning  to  turn  red,  for  it  was  in  the 
fall,  you  know,  and  I  happened  to  look  down  on 
the  turnpike  and  saw  a  lot  of  horses  all  covered 
up  with  white  covers  and  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  the  horses  in  your  fairy  books,  only 
they  didn't  have  any  won-der-ful  knights  on 
them  with  sickly-looking,  b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l  prin- 
cesses under  their  arms  and  four  or  five  big 
spears  and  battle-axes  in  their  hands,  and  a 
hor-ri-ble  old  witch  after  them  and  a  fear-ful 
dragon  in  front,  and— 

"Oh,  daddy!  now  don't,  "  said  the  little  boy, 
getting  tired  of  foolishness.  He  knew  that  papa 
was  teasing  him  about  some  of  the  books  his 
friends  had  given  him  for  Christmas  presents. 

"Well,"  said  papa,  going  back  to  his  story, 
"I  jumped  up  and  down  and  yelled  as  loud  as  I 
could:  '  Oh,  papa,  papa!  Come  and  look  at  the 
horses.  Are  they  going  to  the  fair?'  If  I  had 
been  a  little  city  boy,  I  might  have  said,  '  Look 
at  the  horses  with  dresses  on,'  but  I  suppose  I 
knew  what  fair-horses  were  long  before  I  could 


IT'S    BILLY,    AND    DAN 's    RIDIN'    HIM. 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  191 

talk.  No  doubt  I  had  been  to  the  fair  before, 
too,  but  I  was  so  little  that  I  had  forgotten  it. 

"  'Papa,  are  they  going  to  have  the  fair 
now?'  I  asked.  'Take  me,  won't  you?'  And  I 
was  pulling  and  jerking  at  his  coat  and  asking 
questions  so  fast  that  he  couldn't  answer  half 
of  them. 

"  'Yes,  I  am  going  to  take  you  to-morrow,' 
he  said. 

"  'Now,  papa,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  about 
it  a  week  ago,  and  I  could  have  been  thinking 
about  it  all  this  time?' 

"  '  And  talking  about  it  too,'  said  grandpa. 

"'Where's  Billy?'  I  asked.  'Why  don't 
you  take  Billy  to  the  fair?' 

' '  Billy  was  grandpa's  saddle-horse,  and  we 
were  all  proud  of  him.  Grandpa  used  to  let  me 
ride  up  in  front  of  him  on  Billy  once  in  a  while. 

"  'Where  's  Billy — and  Dick,  and  where  's 
Dan?'  I  asked  again. 

"Dan  was  the  boy  who  attended  to  the 
horses,  and  I  had  missed  him  for  a  day  or  two. 
I  didn't  wait  to  be  answered,  though,  and  ran 
and  got  my  stick-horse  with  the  sure-enough 
mane  on  his  neck,  and  capered  around  the  yard 
with  him  until  the  little  legs  that  made  him  go 
got  awfully  tired,  and  I  was  glad  to  eat  an  early 


192  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

supper  and  go  to  bed.  I  dreamed  about  fair- 
horses  all  night,  with  big  white  covers  on  them, 
with  holes  cut  for  their  eyes  and  ears." 

"  'es,  sir;  'es,  sir,"  said  the  little  boy,  getting 
a  little  excited.  " Didn't  it  get  to  be  mornin' 
pretty  soon,  and  you  stop  sleeping  and  go  to 
the  fair?" 

'  Yes ;  real  early  next  morning  grandpa  awoke 
me  and  said:  'Well,  little  man,  are  you  ready? 
We  '11  have  to  start  early.  We  men  will  go 
together  in  the  buggy,  and  Uncle  John  will  bring 
the  ladies  after  awhile.' 

"I  felt  mighty  big  as  grandma  dressed  me, 
and  when  she  lifted  me  in  the  buggy  by  the  side 
of  grandpa  I  lifted  my  cap  and  said :  '  Uncle  John 
will  take  good  care  of  you  all,  and  when  you  get 
there,  we  will  be  waiting  for  you.' 

' '  Grandma  laughed  and  kissed  me  good-bye, 
and  grandpa  smiled  too. 

"We  had  a  great  big  basket  in  the  buggy, 
with  about  two  dozen  fried  chickens  in  it  and  a 
big  ham  and  some  jars  of  pickles  and  preserves. 
'  'Now,  John,'  said  grandpa, '  when  you  start, 
strap  that  trunk  on  the  carriage  good  and  tight. 
We  don't  want  to  scatter  biscuits  and  cake  all 
over  the  turnpike.' 

"Uncle  John  grinned  and  looked  sheepish,  for 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  193 

he  remembered  the  time  he  did  lose  the  trunk  off 
the  back  of  the  carriage  because  he  was  in  such  a 
hurry  to  get  to  the  fair,  and  they  had  to  drive 
back  a  mile  to  get  it. 

"You  know,  we  had  beaten  biscuit  all  the 
time  in  Kentucky,  like  the  ones  grandma  made 
one  day  and  you  called  'dem  cracker  biscuits.' 

''Well,  I  just  couldn't  get  to  that  fair  fast 
enough.  Every  time  we  came  to  a  turn  in  the 
road  and  saw  a  gate  or  a  house  I  would  say,  '  Is 
that  the  fair,  papa  ? ' 

' '  There  were  so  many  horses  and  buggies  on 
the  pike,  though,  that  I  was  kept  pretty  busy 
watching  them.  They  kept  getting  thicker  and 
thicker,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry, 
and  everybody  was  laughing  and  talking  and 
having  a  good  time.  They  were  trying  to  pass 
each  other  and  get  to  the  fair  first,  but,  I  '11  tell 
you,  not  many  of  them  passed  old  Molly.  She 
just  trotted  along  and  paid  no  attention  to  the 
rest  for  a  long  time,  but  at  last,  when  a  real  fast 
horse  came  tearing  along  and  passed  her,  she 
shook  her  head  and  pulled  real  hard  on  the  lines, 
and  grandpa  said:  'If  we  don't  get  there  pretty 
soon,  old  Molly  will  pull  my  arms  off.  I  have 
half  a  notion  to  let  her  pass  that  old  livery- 
stable  horse  anyhow.'  But  grandpa  held  her  in, 


194  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

and  she  shook  her  head  lots  of  times,  and  got 
white  froth  in  her  mouth,  and  was  all  sweaty  un- 
der the  harness.  'I  believe  it  will  hurt  her  less  to 
trot  than  to  fret;'  said  grandpa,  and  then  he  let 
the  lines  loose  a  little,  and  old  Molly  kicked  dirt 
all  over  us." 

"Let  her  go,  daddy!"  exclaimed  the  little 
boy,  jumping  up  and  down  on  his  papa's  knee 
and  shaking  his  hands  up  and  down  as  if  he  were 
really  the  other  little  boy  that  papa  was  telling 
about  away  back  in  Kentucky  so  long  ago. 
Papa  stopped  talking  and  leaned  back  and 
laughed. 

"I  knew  it  was  in  the  blood,"  said  papa. 
1 '  It  will  take  more  than  one  generation  of  street- 
cars and  office  furniture  to  get  the  'race-hoss' 
blood  out  of  this  boy,  won't  it,  mamma?"  And 
he  slapped  the  little  boy  on  the  back  so  hard 
that  it  jolted  him. 

"You  had  better  be  careful  what  you  teach 
that  child,"  said  mamma,  trying  to  look  serious. 
"The  next  thing  you  know  he  will  be  betting  on 
the  races." 

1 '  Not  while  he  has  that  kind  of  spirit  in  him 
will  you  ever  catch  him  hanging  around  a  pool- 
room or  about  one  of  your  old  cut-and-dried 
city  races." 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  195 

"Go  on,  daddy.     Did  old  Molly  pass  him?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  The  man  looked  back  and 
saw  us  coming,  and  he  raised  up  in  his  buggy 
and  yelled  at  his  horse  and  cut  him  with  his 
whip,  but  old  Molly  just  gamboled  past  him  as 
if  he  were  standing  still.  She  passed  everything 
for  a  mile,  and  then  grandpa  made  her  go  slower. 

"Suddenly  we  turned  a  bend,  and — well,  I 
didn't  ask  if  that  was  the  fair  this  time ;  I  just  sat 
still  and  didn '  t  say  a  word .  I  looked  up  at  grand  - 
pa  and  then  at  it.  Away  off  in  a  beautiful  woods 
was  a  great,  big  round  building.  There  was  a 
sort  of  a  porch  clear  around  it  near  the  top,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  that  thousands  of  people  were 
walking  around,  laughing  and  talking.  Some 
more  were  going  up  the  big,  broad  steps,  others 
were  just  getting  out  of  their  carriages  and  bug- 
gies on  the  long  stile-blocks,  and  further  off  in 
the  woods  the  men  were  unharnessing  their 
horses  and  hitching  them  to  trees  and  posts 

"We  were  coming  to  a  big  gate,  where  a  lot 
of  carriages  and  buggies  were  crowding  through, 
and  everybody  was  talking  loud,  and  the  horses 
were  neighing,  and  I  felt  a  little  scared  and  got 
up  pretty  close  to  grandpa.  He  drove  up  to  a 
little  house  with  a  long  window  in  it  and  bought 
some  tickets,  and  then  drove  through  the  gate 


196  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

and  gave  the  tickets  to  a  man.  The  man  knew 
grandpa,  for  he  said,  'Good  morning,  Mr.  Fos- 
ter.' And  grandpa  said  'Good  morning,  Jerry, 
Fine  day,  isn't  it  ? ' 

"As  we  drove  off  among  the  big  trees  on  the 
soft  bluegrass,  I  heard  a  band  strike  up  away  off 
toward  the  big  building,  and  I  got  over  my  scare 
and  stood  up  in  the  buggy  and  took  off  my  cap 
and  cheered.  Grandpa  smiled,  but  didn't  stop 
me.  I  was  satisfied  after  I  had  given  two  or 
three  good  yells,  and  sat  down  again. 

' '  Well,  we  went  into  the  fair,  and  pretty  soon 
the  horses  and  sulkies  and  buggies  began  to 
come  into  the  ring.  Then  grandma  and  all  the 
rest  came,  and  I  remember  thinking  that  it  was 
mighty  strange  that  they  could  ever  find  us  in 
all  that  crowd. 

"  '  I  wasn't  right  sure  whether  you  said  meet 
you  at  Number  15  or  50,'  said  grandma,  looking 
up  at  the  big,  white  letters  on  a  post. 

"We  had  not  been  there  long  when  a  lot  of 
saddle-horses  came  in.  Oh,  my,  but  they  were 
pretty!  There  were  black  and  bay  and  sorrel 
and  brown  and  gray  horses.  Suddenly  I  heard  a 
lot  of  men  yell  away  over  by  the  gate  where  they 
all  came  in,  and  I  looked  over  that  way  and  saw 
a  big  black  horse  come  in  with  a  black  boy  on 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  197 

him.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and  looked  again. 
Suddenly  I  jumped  up,  and,  pointing  to  the  new 
horse  and  negro  boy,  I  said:  '  Look,  papa,  look! 
It  's  Billy,  and  Dan  on  him.  Look,  mamma, 
look!'  And,  waving  my  cap  around  my  head, 
I  yelled,  'Hoowah  for  Dan  and  Billy!'  Then 
everybody  yelled  again,  and  I  sat  down,  and 
everybody  laughed,  and  I  got  red  in  the  face; 
but  I  was  too  much  interested  in  Billy  and  Dan 
to  bother  very  long.  Dan  took  off  his  cap  when 
they  cheered;  then  he  waved  his  hand  over  the 
right  side  of  Billy's  neck  and  Billy  stood  straight 
up  on  his  hind  legs  and  then  loped  off  around 
the  ring.  When  he  came  in  front  of  us,  Dan 
took  his  cap  off  again  and  showed  all  his  teeth; 
then  he  touched  Billy's  neck  and  he  trotted  the 
rest  of  the  way  around  the  ring,  taking  great, 
long  steps  and  snorting  at  every  step. 

"Pretty  soon  the  gate  closed,  and  the  horses 
got  down  to  business  and  went  all  sorts  of  gaits. 
Every  time  Dan  and  Billy  would  go  around 
where  the  most  men  were  they  would  yell:  '  Tie 
it  on  the  black  hoss ! '  '  Give  the  blue  string  to 
the  nigger!'  'Give  it  to  Billy  and  Dan!'  And 
then  everybody  would  laugh,  because  I  had  told 
who  Billy  and  Dan  were. 

"Before  long  they  all  gathered  around  the 


198  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

judges'  stand  in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  and  when 
Billy  loped  away  with  the  blue  ribbon  stream- 
ing from  his  throat-latch,  Dan's  teeth  showed 
while  he  rode  all  the  way  around  the  ring,  and  he 
kept  his  cap  in  his  hand  until  all  the  rest  had 
gone  out,  and  then  he  showed  how  fast  Billy 
could  rack  around  the  ring  once,  and  then  he 
went  out.  I  was  wild  with  joy,  and  grandpa  and 
grandma  were  pretty  well  pleased,  too. 

"After  dinner  down  in  the  woods  we  went  to 
see  a  lot  of  things  in  another  building;  that  was 
where  the  ladies  were  trying  to  find  out  who 
could  make  the  finest  preserves  and  cake  and 
jelly  and  butter  and  pickles  and  quilts  and  all 
sorts  of  pretty  things,  and  the  farmers  were 
trying  to  find  out  who  could  raise  the  best  ap- 
ples and  peaches  and  corn  and  pumpkins  and 
things.  Then  we  went  back  to  the  grand-stand, 
and  grandpa  slipped  away  somewhere.  Grand- 
ma said  he  would  be  back  in  a  little  while.  You 
know,  that  was  a  long,  long  time  before  they 
were  anybody's  grandma  and  grandpa,  and  they 
were  both  young  and  handsome,  and  grandma 
had  right  black  hair  instead  of  white,  as  it  is 
now,  and  her  eyes  were  black,  just  as  they  are 
now.  Grandpa's  hair  was  black,  too,  but  his 
eyes  were  gray,  just  as  you  see  them  in  his 
picture. 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  199 

"Well,  after  a  while  the  gates  opened  again, 
and  the  bell  rang,  and  somebody  drove  in  in  a 
red  buggy  with  two  big  bay  horses,  and  the  peo- 
ple began  to  yell  and  wave  their  hats.  Then 
two  gray  horses  came  in,  and  some  more  people 
yelled;  then  two  black  horses  came  in,  hitched 
to  a  new  black  buggy.  One  of  the  horses  was 
jumping  and  cutting  up  like  everything  and  a 
black  boy  was  holding  him  by  the  bridle.  It 
didn't  take  me  long  to  see  that  it  was  Dan,  and 
then  it  dawned  upon  me  that  the  horse  he  was 
holding  was  our  own  Dick,  and  there  was  Billy  by 
the  side  of  him,  stepping  high  and  snorting,  but  not 
cutting  up.  I  looked  up  in  the  buggy  and  there 
was  my  own  papa,  holding  the  lines  and  looking 
as  if  he  could  drive  a  dozen  wild  horses.  Dick 
was  a  year  younger  than  Billy,  and  was  awfully 
wild. 

"  '  Hurrah  for  the  nigger! '  yelled  somebody. 

"  'Let  Dan  ride  him!'  somebody  else  called 
out. 

"  'Fifty  dollars  on  the  black  hosses,'  said  a 
man  with  a  deep  voice.  'Who  wants  fifty  on 
the  blacks  ? ' 

"Then  grandpa  said  something  to  Dan,  and 
Dan  let  go,  and  Dick  stood  almost  straight  up 
on  his  hind  feet  and  then  jumped  forward. 


200  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

Grandpa  held  him  and  talked  to  him  right  low, 
and  he  soon  quit  jumping. 

' '  I  had  got  out  of  my  seat  with  my  cap  in  my 
hand  as  soon  as  I  saw  who  it  was,  but  I  didn't 
yell  any  more.  I  was  too  proud  to  say  a  word, 
and  I  just  stood  looking  at  my  papa. 

"  'Hurrah  for  the  little  man!'  yelled  some- 
body, but  I  didn't  know  that  he  meant  me 

'  Hurrah  for  Billy  and  papa! '  shouted  some- 
body else,  and  then  I  sat  down.  Then  a  man 
sat  down  near  me  and  said: 

"  'Little  man,  what  's  the  other  black  hoss's 
name  ? ' 

"  'That's  Dick,'  I  said;(  'that's  Dick  and 
Billy,  and  papa  's  drivin'  'em.' 

'Just  then  grandpa  drove  around  by  us,  and 
he  looked  up  at  grandma  and  me  and  took  off 
his  hat,  and  grandma  smiled  and  waved  her 
handkerchief  and  threw  him  a  big  red  rose. 

'Hurrah  for  Billy  and  Dick  and  papa!' 
yelled  the  man,  and  he  stood  up  and  took  me  in 
his  arms  and  waved  my  cap  over  his  head. 

"Once  in  a  while  somebody  called  out,  'Tie 
it  on  Dick  and  Billy! '  but  nobody  else  said  any- 
thing about  grandpa,  except  when  they  said, 
'  Give  it  to  the  Foster  hosses! '  They  got  it,  too, 
and  when  grandpa  drove  around  with  one  hand 


FIRST  DAY  AT  THE  FAIR.  201 

and  with  his  hat  in  the  other,  he  got  a  lot  of 
bouquets  thrown  at  him.  Dan  met  him  at  the 
gate  as  he  went  out  and  jumped  in  the  buggy 
with  him  to  help  him  take  care  of  the  horses." 

"Goodness!  daddy,  that 's  fine;  I  tell  you, 
that  's  fine.  Daddy,  let  's  get  a  pony." 

And  that  night,  when  the  little  boy  finally 
went  to  sleep,  he  tumbled  and  tossed  about  the 
bed,  and  once  when  mamma  heard  him  mutter 
"fair"  and  "Billy,"  she  looked  at  papa  and  said: 
"I'm  afraid  you  will  have  to  keep  the  rest  of 
your  fair  stories  until  he  is  a  little  older." 


LITTLE  DICK. 


ONE  TIME  we  had  a  little  bit  of  a  colt, 
whose  mamma  died  when  it  was  just  a 
day  old.  ' '  Poor  little  fellow ! "  grandpa 
said.  "It  would  be  better  for  him  if  he  were 
dead  too,  for  I  don't  think  we  will  be  able  to 
raise  him;  but  we  will  try, 
anyway.  He  won't  be 
worth  half  the  trouble  we 
give  him,  but  we  can't 
afford  to  see  anything 
suffer." 

So  Uncle  Ben  and  I 
told  grandpa  that  if  he 
would  give  the  colt  to  us, 
we  would  try  to  raise  him. 
I  was  almost  grown  then 
and  Uncle  Ben  was  a  big  boy.  We  took  him  up 
and  carried  him  into  a  box-stall  in  the  stable, 
where  there  was  some  nice  straw  for  him  to 
lie  on,  and  we  fed  him  milk  every  hour  in  the 
day  and  night.  We  thought  a  great  deal  of 
the  colt;  but  I  tell  you,  when  we  had  to  get 

202 


1  In  all  sorts  of  mischief." 


LITTLE  DICK.  203 

up  every  hour  in  the  night  to  feed  him,  we 
began  to  wonder  whether  he  was  worth  all 
the  trouble  or  not;  but  when  we  would  go  to 
the  stable  and  find  him  so  anxious  to  see  us,  we 
would  forget  all  about  the  trouble,  and  we  were 
glad  we  had  him.  We  were  afraid  to  give  him 
enough  milk  at  one  time  to  satisfy  him,  for  the 
old  horse-doctor  told  us  that  would  kill  him,  so 
we  had  to  give  him  a  little  bit  at  a  time. 

After  he  had  stayed  in  the  box-stall  for  about 
two  weeks  and  was  beginning  to  get  a  little 
strength,  we  let  him  out  of  the  stable  one  day 
and  turned  him  into  the  big  yard.  The  little 
fellow  had  never  seen  anything  that  he  could  re- 
member but  us  two  boys,  and  he  was  afraid  of 
everything  he  saw.  So  he  ran  right  between 
us  and  put  his  head  under  my  ann  and  cuddled 
up  just  as  close  to  me  as  he  could  get,  and  Uncle 
Ben  put  his  arm  over  him,  too,  and  away  we 
went  to  the  house,  the  little  colt  trotting  right 
between  us.  We  had  already  named  him 
"Dick,"  and  when  we  got  to  the  house  and 
walked  up  on  the  porch,  little  Dick  walked  right 
up  with  us  and  into  the  house. 

"That  's  a  very  nice  little  colt,"  said  grand- 
ma, ' '  but  are  you  going  to  raise  him  in  the  house 
or  at  the  stable?" 


204  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

We  told  her  that  we  would  not  let  him  bother 
around  the  house  very  much,  and  that  he  was 
going  to  be  a  mighty  good  colt.  After  a  while 
he  began  to  feel  enough  at  home  to  stay  around 
the  yard,  but  we  soon  put  him  back  in  his  box- 
stall,  where  he  felt  all  right  again.  When  he 
grew  a  little  bigger  he  was  very  playful,  but  he 
did  not  know  anything  except  us  two  boys.  He 
had  never  seen  a  horse  that  he  could  remember. 
One  day  he  was  playing  around  the  house,  and 
grandpa  rode  up  on  old  Beck,  his  saddle-mare. 
Grandpa  tied  the  reins  up  and  turned  old  Beck 
loose  to  eat  some  grass.  Dick  had  been  playing 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  but  pretty  soon 
old  Beck  walked  around  that  way,  and  as  soon 
as  she  saw  him,  she  threw  up  her  head  and 
neighed  and  started  towards  him.  I  suppose 
she  thought,  "Why,  there  is  a  nice  little  baby 
horse  all  by  himself!  I  will  go  and  make  friends 
with  him."  But  Dick  saw  her  at  about  the 
same  time  that  she  saw  him,  and  as  he  had  never 
seen  a  horse  before,  he  did  not  know  what  in  the 
world  to  make  of  her.  He  was  scared  nearly  to 
death,  and  when  he  saw  old  Beck  coming  to- 
wards him,  he  started  to  run  as  hard  as  he  could 
go.  He  ran  around  the  house  and  jumped  up  on 
the  porch,  and  just  then  he  saw  grandpa  sitting 


LITTLE  DICK.  205 

leaning  against  the  wall.  Grandpa  had  been 
reading  his  newspaper,  with  his  chair  tilted  back 
against  the  wall,  and  when  he  heard  something 
clattering  up  on  the  porch,  he  looked  up,  and 
there  was  Dick  coming  as  hard  as  he  could.  The 
little  colt  ran  up  to  grandpa  and  ran  right  be- 
tween his  knees  and  put  his  head  over  grandpa's 
shoulder.  He  was  scared  so  badly  that  his 
little  heart  beat  as  if  it  would  burst  through  his 
ribs.  So  grandpa  patted  him,  and  said,  "Why, 
he  isn't  any  colt  at  all;  he  is  just  a  nice  little 
boy,"  and  pretty  soon  he  was  feeling  all  right 
again,  but  he  would  not  go  away  from  grandpa's 
arm.  Old  Beck  came  on  around  the  house  after 
the  little  colt,  but  stopped  short  when  she  saw 
him  up  on  the  porch.  She  didn't  know  what  to 
make  of  such  things  as  that,  for  she  always 
thought  that  the  house  was  for  people;  but 
Dick  had  never  found  out  yet  that  he  wasn't 
"people." 

We  used  to  feed  him  on  sugar  and  biscuits 
and  cakes,  but  he  liked  cakes  better  than  any- 
thing. Of  course,  his  main  food  was  milk,  but 
when  he  saw  anybody  out  in  the  yard  eating  a 
piece  of  cake,  he  did  not  ask  any  questions,  but 
just  walked  up  and  took  it,  if  he  could  get  it. 

One  day  grandma  told  us  that  she  was  going 


206  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

to  have  company,  and  wanted  that  pesky  colt 
put  somewhere  out  of  the  way;  so  we  took  him 
out  of  the  yard,  clear  across  the  turnpike,  and 
put  him  in  the  big  wheat-field  and  closed  the 
gate.  When  we  went  away  and  left  him,  he  ran 
up  and  down  the  fence  nickering;  but  pretty 
soon  he  saw  he  could  not  get  out,  and  went  to 
playing  in  the  shade  of  a  big  tree. 

Grandma  was  getting  along  finely  with  her 
company,  and  they  were  just  at  dinner.  Grand- 
ma had  made  some  fine  puddings  and  had  set 
them  out  on  the  table  on  the  back  porch.  While 
they  were  at  dinner  grandma  heard  a  terrible 
clatter  on  the  side  porch.  Somebody  had  left 
the  gates  open,  and  Dick  had  got  into  the  yard 
again  and  came  tearing  up  to  the  house  as  hard 
as  he  could.  He  jumped  on  the  big  side  porch 
and  ran  the  whole  length  of  it,  then  to  the  little 
porch,  and  seeing  the  puddings  on  the  table,  he 
grabbed  one  in  his  mouth  and  went  on  out  into 
the  back  yard  to  eat  it.  Grandma  thought  it 
was  so  funny  that  she  did  not  have  Dick  sent 
away  again.  She  gave  him  another  pudding, 
and  put  the  rest  away  where  he  could  not 
get  at  them. 

Later  in  the  day,  when  the  company  was  all 
in  the  parlor,  she  heard  something  in  another 


LITTLE  DICK.  207 

room.  She  went  to  see  about  it,  and  there  was 
Dick  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  quietly 
brushing  the  flies  off.  He  was  hunting  a  cool 
place,  and  concluded  that  the  dining-room  was 
the  coolest  place  he  could  find.  After  that  she 
had  to  have  him  put  up. 

We  used  to  play  with  him  out  in  the  yard, 
and  he  would  slip  up  and  take  our  hats  off  in  his 
mouth  and  run  away  with  them.  Sometimes 
he  would  put  his  fore  feet  up  on  our  shoulders 
and  make  us  carry  him  along  that  way.  But 
pretty  soon  he  got  so  big  that  it  was  dangerous 
to  play  with  him,  because  he  might  hurt  some- 
body. When  he  would  be  out  in  the  field,  we 
could  go  and  call  him,  but  we  could  not  call  him 
as  we  did  the  other  horses;  we  would  have  to 
call  him  just  as  we  would  a  boy,  and  he  would 
come  running  home,  knowing  very  well  that  he 
would  get  a  biscuit  or  a  piece  of  sugar. 

We  made  a  little  harness  for  him  while  he 
was  quite  a  small  colt,  and  hitched  him  to  a  little 
wagon,  just  as  if  he  were  a  big  horse,  and  he 
seemed  to  think  it  was  lots  of  fun.  When  he  got 
to  be  a  full-grown  horse,  and  we  would  hitch  him 
to  the  big  buggy,  he  would  cut  up  as  much  like 
a  boy  as  a  colt.  We  used  to  hitch  him  to  the 
buggy,  and  start  towards  the  house,  and  sav, 


208  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"Come  on,  Dick,"  and  he  would  come  after  us 
just  as  carefully  as  if  we  were  driving  him. 

One  day  Uncle  Ben  said  to  a  visitor:  "Do 
you  see  that  horse  out  there  hitched  to  the 
buggy?  I  11  bet  I  can  make  that  horse  come 
up  on  the  porch  with  the  buggy."  The  visitor 
thought  that  was  a  strange  thing,  and  said  he  did 
not  believe  the  horse  would  do  it.  Uncle  Ben  un- 
tied him  and  said,  "Come  on,  Dick,"  and  walked 
up  on  the  porch.  Dick  walked  right  ahead, 
stepped  up  on  the  porch,  and  pulled  the  front 
wheels  of  the  buggy  up  until  the  top  of  the 
buggy  caught  against  the  top  of  the  porch;  then 
I  had  to  stop  him,  because  if  I  had  not,  he  might 
have  broken  the  top  of  the  buggy  off  trying  to 
get  in  the  house. 

He  was  always  a  pet,  and  never  got  over  his 
mischief.  He  never  got  too  big  to  steal  your  hat 
and  run  away  with  it,  or  slip  up  and  bite  you  on 
the  shoulder,  no  matter  where  he  found  you;  and 
sometimes  he  bit  pretty  hard,  too. 

When  I  left  Kentucky  little  Dick  was  an  old 
horse,  and  turned  out  in  one  of  the  big  pastures 
of  the  old  place,  where  he  found  a  home  as  long 
as  he  lived. 


THE  HAY  HARVEST. 


did  you  ever  do  any  sure- 
enough  farm-work  when  you  were  as 
little  a  boy  as  I  am  ?  "  said  the  little  boy. 
as  he  wiped  the  perspiration  off  his  face  and 
threw  down  the  rake  and  then  threw  himself 
down  on  the  soft  green  grass  that  he  had  been 
pretending  to  rake.  Papa  was  pushing  the 
lawn-mower,  and  was  pretty  warm  himself,  and 
he  was  trying  real  hard  to  get  through  before 
dark,  for  the  only  time  he  had  to  do  his  farm- 
work,  as  he  called  it,  was  early  in  the  morning 
and  very  late  in  the  afternoon. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  papa.  "When  I  was 
your  age  I  was  driving  a  horse  and  doing  lots  of 
different  kinds  of  work." 

"Oh,  that  was  like  play!  —  driving  a  horse," 
said  the  little  boy.  "Tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,"  said  papa,  "if  you  will  rake  away 
real  lively  now  until  we  get  through,  I  '11  tell  you 
to-night  how  we  used  to  cut  the  hay  and  rake  it 
up  on  the  farm." 

So  the  boy  kept  his  little  rake  going  at  a  great 


209 


210  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

rate  for  at  least  five  minutes,  and  when  papa 
finished  cutting,  he  took  the  big  rake  and  fin- 
ished the  job,  and  really  admitted  that  he  had 
less  to  do  than  if  the  little  boy  had  not  helped 
him.  Sometimes  he  thought  all  to  himself  that 
the  little  boy  made  more  work  than  he  saved. 

That  night,  just  before  bedtime,  the  little 
boy  said:  "Now,  daddy,  tell  me  how  you  used 
to  cut  the  hay  and  rake  it  up." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  papa,  realizing  that  he  had 
made  a  promise  and  must  make  his  word  good 
right  away.  "That  is  a  story  which  I  will  be 
mighty  glad  to  tell  you,  for  you  will  learn  some- 
thing about  real  farm-work  from  this  story. 

"About  this  time  every  year,  or  about  the 
middle  of  July,  after  we  had  the  wheat  all  har- 
vested and  threshed,  we  went  to  work  to  put  up 
the  hay.  We  usually  had  about  forty  acres  of 
timothy  hay,  besides  the  clover.  The  clover  was 
always  cut  earlier  and  was  usually  out  of  the  way 
before  the  wheat  was  cut.  When  the  timothy 
was  ripe  and  ready  to  cut,  it  was  as  pretty  as 
anything  you  ever  saw.  It  was  about  as  high  as 
your  head  or  a  little  higher  and  was  just  begin- 
ning to  turn  from  green  to  brown.  Grandpa 
would  go  out  and  look  at  it  and  say,  '  Well,  we 
must  cut  that  hay  now,  right  away';  then  he 


MANY   A    FINE    DAY    IN   THAT    OLD    MEADOW. 


THE  HAY  HARVEST.  213 

would  look  up  at  the  clouds  and  see  whether  he 
thought  it  was  going  to  rain;  then  he  would 
say,  '  I  think  I  had  better  start  in  after  dinner 
and  get  enough  cut  to  start  the  rake  in  the 
morning.'  So  he  would  hitch  two  horses  to  the 
mower,  and  start  around  a  big  square  at  one  side 
of  the  field.  The  mower  would  rattle  and  sing 
and  the  sickle  would  look  like  a  streak  of  light- 
ning running  to  and  fro  through  the  grass. 
When  the  machine  would  be  on  the  side  of  the 
field  next  to  the  house  it  would  sound  loud 
and  '  rattly, '  and  when  it  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  field  it  would  sound  more  like  the  hum  of 
some  big  insect;  then  when  grandpa  would  come 
around  on  the  side  next  to  the  house  he  was  apt 
to  find  grandma  and  me  there  with  a  good  cool 
drink  of  water  for  him,  and  maybe  some  cookies. 
One  time  when  he  had  a  nice  level  field  to  cut  he 
took  me  with  him  and  let  me  ride  on  his  lap  while 
he  drove  and  managed  the  mower.  I  watched 
the  big  tall  grass  fall  in  nice  straight  rows  and 
listened  to  the  clatter  of  the  machine,  and  asked 
questions.  I  could  always  ask  plenty  of  ques- 
tions. Every  now  and  then  a  bird  would  fly 
up  from  just  in  front  of  the  sickle,  and  grandpa 
would  say,  'There  's  another  bird's  nest;  the 
meadow-larks  and  ground-sparrows  seem  to  be 


214  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

as  thick  as  ants  this  year';  then  he  would  go 
back  to  the  nest  and  show  me  the  eggs,  but 
wouldn't  let  me  touch  them;  and  then  he  would 
tie  some  bunches  of  grass  together  and  set  up 
over  the  nest.  I  asked  him  what  he  did  that 
for;  and  he  said,  to  keep  the  sun  from  shining  too 
strong  on  the  old  bird  and  also  to  mark  the  place 
so  the  nest  would  not  be  destroyed  when  the 
hay  was  raked  up.  After  a  while  there  was  quite 
a  fluttering  almost  under  the  sickle,  and  grandpa 
said. '  Whoa! '  and  pulled  on  the  lines  right  quick. 
The  horses  stopped,  and  he  went  around  to  the 
sickle  and  picked  up  a  big  brown  bird  that  was 
still  fluttering  a  little  bit.  'There,  now,'  said 
grandpa;  'isn't  that  too  bad?  I  've  run  over 
a  pattridge  and  killed  her,  and  here  she  has  a 
whole  nest  full  of  eggs  and  they  look  as  if  they 
were  just  about  ready  to  hatch.  Poor  old 
birdie!'  said  grandpa,  'if  I  had  known  you  were 
there,  I  would  have  left  you  a  half -acre  of  grass 
before  I  would  have  done  this.  God  made  you 
better  than  some  people  are,  didn't  He?  You 
stayed  right  by  your  nest  when  you  knew  there 
was  danger.'  ' 

"What  is  a  'pattridge,'  daddy?"  broke  in  the 
little  boy. 

"Well,  it  was  a  partridge,  but  grandpa  al- 


THE  HAY  HARVEST.  215 

ways  said  'pattridge.'  It  is  a  bird  just  like  our 
quail,  only  maybe  a  little  larger.  It  is  some- 
times called  the  Bob  White,  from  the  way  it 
whistles  in  the  spring  and  summer. "  And  papa 
gave  a  good  imitation  of  the  whistle  of  the  Bob 
White.  ' '  In  the  spring  and  summer,  when  they 
are  making  their  nests,  old  Mr.  Bob  White  calls 
that  way  to  his  mate  while  she  sits  on  the  nest, 
but  in  the  fall  and  winter,  when  they  are  feeding 
out  in  the  fields  and  being  hunted,  they  whistle 
this  way."  And  papa  here  gave  a  different 
whistle,  which,  for  all  the  little  boy  knew,  was 
exactly  like  it;  but  he  thought  it  safe  to  ask  any- 
way, so  he  said,  "Is  that  just  zackly  like  it?" 
"Well,"  said  papa,  "I  think,  with  a  little  prac- 
tice, I  could  fool  the  birds  themselves — I  used  to 
do  it."  Then  papa  gave  a  little  laugh  all  to 
himself. 

"Now,  what  are  you  laughing  at,  daddy? 
You  can't  spect  me  to  know  all  about  farms 
and  birds." 

"I  don't,"  said  papa,  "and  I  was  not  laugh- 
ing at  you  at  all;  I  was  just  thinking  that  if  I 
should  ever  put  that  story  in  a  book  and  some 
other  little  city  boy's  father,  who  had  always 
been  a  city  man  himself,  should  read  it  to  his 
little  boy,  and  the  little  boy  should  ask  him  to 


216  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

whistle  like  the  Bob  White,  that  I  should  like  to 
hear  the  whistle." 

"What  did  grandpa  do  with  the  podg-gidge 
you  killed?" 

"Well,  he  put  it  on  the  ground,  and  then 
took  me  and  showed  me  the  nest  full  of  eggs; 
there  must  have  been  twenty  of  them. 

'Well,'  said  grandpa,  'we  have  done  a  good 
deal  of  harm;  now  we  will  see  if  we  can  do 
any  good.' 

"So  he  gathered  all  the  eggs  up  carefully, 
and  then  unhitched  the  trace-chains,  so  the 
horses  could  not  run  away  with  the  mower, 
and  said:  'Come  on  and  let  's  go  to  the  house 
and  set  these  eggs  under  one  of  the  old  hens.' 

"So  we  put  the  eggs  under  the  gentlest  old 
hen  that  we  could  find  and  gave  her  eggs  to 
another  hen,  and  in  about  a  week— 

"Oh,  you  had  some  little  pet  birds!  didn't 
you?"  broke  in  the  little  boy,  fairly  jumping  up 
and  down  with  excitement. 

' '  Not  much, ' '  said  papa.  ' '  Those  little  birds 
had  not  more  than  got  the  shells  off  their  heads 
before  they  began  to  run  and  hide.  Why,  they 
even  hid  from  the  old  hen.  They  ran  under 
weeds  and  grass  and  everything  they  could  find 
that  would  cover  them  up.  Grandpa  kept  them 


THE  HAY  HARVEST.  217 

in  a  box  with  the  old  hen  for  about  three  days, 
and  then  they  were  so  lively  that  he  let  them  all 
out.  They  scampered  around  a  little  while  and 
then  ran  away  in  the  weeds,  and  they  led  that 
old  hen  a  merry  chase.  That  night  the  old  hen 
came  home  without  any  little  birds  with  her." 

"Did  they  all  get  losted  in  the  weeds  and 
die  ? "  asked  the  little  boy. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  papa.  "You  can't 
very  well  lose  a  flock  of  little  partridges,  if  you 
just  give  them  a  day  or  two  from  the  time  they 
hatch  out  to  get  a  little  strength  in  their  legs. 
Those  little  birds  were  seen  about  a  week  from 
that  time  just  back  of  the  garden  in  the  stubble- 
field,  and  they  were  twice  as  big  as  when  they 
ran  away  from  the  old  hen,  and  they  looked  as 
if  there  were  as  many  of  them  as  there  were  when 
they  first  hatched  out.  After  that  they  were 
frequently  seen  in  the  same  place,  and  they 
stayed  there  all  the  next  winter. 

' '  But  we  got  off  the  subject,  didn't  we  ? "  said 
papa.  "I  was  going  to  tell  you  how  we  raked 
up  the  hay  and  stacked  it. 

"Well,  the  next  day  after  the  hay  was  cut 
grandpa  hitched  an  old  gentle  horse  to  the  rake, 
and  one  of  the  small  negro  boys  raked  up  the  hay 
in  great  rows;  then  the  men  came  along  with 


218  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

their  pitchforks  and  threw  it  up  into  nice  round 
piles  that  we  call  shocks.  By  night  the  day  aft- 
er we  found  the  partridge  eggs  the  whole  field 
was  dotted  over  with  these  little  round-topped 
shocks;  then  in  a  few  days  we  went  out  to  stack 
the  hay.  Grandpa  had  the  men  haul  a  lot  of 
rails  to  a  high  point  in  the  field  right  near  the 
old  bars,  and  the  rails  were  placed  close  to- 
gether on  the  ground  to  make  a  foundation  for 
the  stack;  then  they  took  the  three  horses  they 
had  brought  out  and  put  just  a  collar  and  pair  of 
hames  on  each  one,  and  tied  a  big  rope  about 
thirty  feet  long  to  the  left  side  of  each  horse's 
hames;  then  grandpa  put  a  negro  boy  on  each 
horse  and  said,  'Now  bring  on  your  hay.'  The 
two  men  who  were  going  to  pitch  the  hay  up  on 
the  stack  to  grandpa  took  their  forks  and  began 
to  throw  on  the  shocks  near  by,  and  grandpa 
placed  it  around  to  make  a  good  start  for  the 
stack.  The  boys  on  the  horses  each  rode  out  to 
a  shock  and  backed  his  horse  up  against  it;  then 
he  jumped  off  right  quick,  and,  taking  the  rope 
in  his  hand,  put  it  around  the  shock  close  to  the 
ground;  then  he  would  take  the  loose  end  of  the 
rope  and  hook  it  on  to  the  other  side  of  the 
hames;  then  he  would  take  the  line  in  his  hand 
and  jump  on  top  of  the  hay-shock  to  ride  and 


THE  HAY  HARVEST.  219 

to  keep  it  from  turning  over,  and  then  away  he 
would  go  a-sailing  in  to  the  hay-stack.  Some- 
times the  load  would  turn  over  anyway,  and 
sometimes  the  rope  would  slip  clear  under  the 
hay-shock  and  leave  it  sitting  out  in  the  field. 

"Of  course  I  wanted  to  try  my  hand  at 
hauling  hay,  so  grandpa  let  me  go  out  with  one 
of  the  boys.  We  rode  in  together,  and  it  was 
such  fine  fun  that  I  begged  to  go  after  one  by 
myself;  so  they  put  me  on  old  Kit,  as  she  was  real 
gentle,  and  I  struck  out.  I  put  the  rope  around 
and  fastened  the  other  end  and  jumped  on  and 
started  up  old  Kit.  Now,  old  Kit  was  gentle, 
but  she  was  a  little  nervous,  and  she  started  up 
light  quickly.  I  hadn't  put  the  rope  far  enough 
under  the  shock  and  over  it  went  and  I  went 
with  it  right  against  old  Kit's  heels.  She  knew 
that  there  was  something  wrong,  and  stopped. 
I  crawled  out  from  under  the  hay  and  looked 
pretty  silly.  All  the  rest  of  them  laughed  at  me, 
and  even  grandpa,  when  he  saw  that  I  was  not 
hurt  any,  smiled  a  little.  I  wasn't  afraid  to  try 
it  again,  though,  and  before  long  I  was  hauling 
hay  very  well;  but  grandpa  wouldn't  let  me  do 
much  of  it,  because  it  was  too  hard  work.  I  was 
only  about  eight  years  old — no,  I  was  only  seven, 
for  I  remember  that  I  had  a  birthday  party  on 


220  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

my  eighth  birthday  the  very  next  month,  and 
grandpa  told  about  my  hauling  hay  as  a  great 
joke  on  me.  I  think,  though,  that  he  was  really 
proud  of  my  trying  to  do  it. 

"Goodness!  How  we  used  to  get  stung  by 
the  bees  out  in  that  old  meadow ! ' '  added  papa, 
more  to  himself  than  to  the  little  boy. 

"Tell  me  about  that,"  asked  the  little  boy. 

"Not  to-night;  some  other  time.  That's  all 
this  time.  Go  to  sleep  now,  and  dream  about 
the  nice  fresh  hay." 


TRAPPING. 


£6  1  "X  ADDY,  tell  me  some  more  about  catch- 

J   ing  birds  and  things,  "  asked  the  little 

boy.     "You  won't  have  to  tell  about 

getting  whippings 

for  it,  if  you  don't 

want  too" 

"All  right,"  said 
papa,  who  seemed  to 
be  in  a  pretty  good 
story-telling  humor. 
"I'll  tell  you  first 
how  we  used  to 
catch  the  chickens. 
O  f  course,  most  of 
the  chickens  were 
gentle  and  stayed 
around  the  hen- 
house and  chicken-lot,  and  some  stayed  so  close 
about  the  house  and  yard  that  they  were  always 
in  the  way,  but  there  were  some  that  had 
been  raised  away  out  in  the  weeds  and  fence- 
corners  and  they  were  almost  as  wild  as  the 

221 


"Ready  for  company." 


222  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

wild  birds.  By  the  way,  did  I  ever  tell  you 
how  the  chickens  and  ducks  and  all  the  fowls 
around  the  house  and  stable  used  to  follow 
grandpa  whenever  he  went  out?  Well,  it  was 
the  funniest  thing  you  ever  saw.  I  have  told 
you,  of  course,  that  grandpa  was  good  to  every- 
thing as  well  as  to  everybody,  and  he  always 
fed  and  took  care  of  everything  about  the  place; 
so  when  he  would  start  from  the  house  to  the 
stable,  it  was  funny  to  see  the  things  follow 
him,  especially  if  it  happened  to  be  feeding-time. 
One  of  the  old  ducks,  for  instance,  would  see  him 
and  she  would  say,  'Qua-c-k,  qua-a-a-c-k,'  and 
flop  her  wings  and  start  after  him.  That  would 
be  signal  enough,  and  by  the  time  he  got  to  the 
stable  he  would  have  as  many  as  two  hundred 
chickens,  twenty  or  thirty  ducks,  a  few  geese,  a 
whole  flock  of  turkeys — sometimes  a  hundred  or 
more — and,  of  course,  Shep  would  be  with  him, 
and  sometimes  even  the  cats  would  follow  along 
too.  As  soon  as  he  got  into  the  stable-yard  the 
pigs  would  join  the  procession,  and  such  a  squeal- 
ing and  carrying  on  you  never  heard.  Then  he 
would  get  into  the  corn-crib  and  throw  out  a  lot 
of  corn,  and  that  stopped  the  racket. 

"Let 's  see.     I  started  out  to  tell  you  how 
we  hunted  and  caught  things,  didn't  I?    Oh, 


TRAPPING.  223 

yes!  about  those  wild  chickens.  Well,  they 
would  run  and  hide  in  the  weeds  when  they  saw 
anybody,  and,  of  course,  as  soon  as  they  got  big 
enough  to  eat  they  were  the  first  ones  to  get 
their  heads  cut  off  and  be  put  on  the  table. 

"Grandpa  would  say:  'Boys,  you  and  Shep 
go  out  there  along  the  orchard  fence  and  catch 
four  of  those  wild  chickens.  Pick  out  the  biggest 
ones  now,  and  don't  let  Shep  hurt  them.' 

"Old  Shep  would  be  standing  there  listening, 
and  I  don't  know  whether  he  understood  every- 
thing that  was  said,  but  I  know  he  would  un- 
derstand part  of  it.  He  knew  that  he  had  heard 
his  name  called,  and  I  believe  he  knew  what  the 
word  '  chicken '  meant,  and  he  saw  grandpa  point 
towards  the  orchard  fence.  That  was  about 
enough  for  Shep,  so  away  we  would  go,  and  as 
soon  as  the  chickens  were  found  we  would  pick 
out  one  and  point  it  out  to  Shep.  We  would 
separate  it  from  the  rest,  and  it  wouldn't  be  a 
minute  until  Shep  would  have  both  paws  and 
his  chin  on  that  chicken,  holding  him  down  until 
one  of  us  could  catch  up  and  take  it.  The  next 
one  wouldn't  be  quite  so  easy,  because  they 
would  be  scared,  and  by  the  time  we  had  caught 
the  last  one  of  the  four,  the  rest  had  run  and  hid 
in  the  tobacco  barn  or  away  out  in  the  weeds 
somewhere 


224  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"Of  course,  that  was  when  Uncle  Ben  and  I 
were  pretty  big  boys;  at  least,  I  was  a  pretty 
big  boy,  and  Uncle  Ben  was  toddling  after.  The 
first  thing  that  I  remember  of  Uncle  Ben  saying 
very  much  was,  'Wa-a-it';  but  I  didn't  always 
wait  very  well,  and  it  sometimes  caused  a  lively 
scrap  and  sometimes  made  trouble  for  me  with 
grandma. 

"Now,  about  catching  those  rabbits  and 
birds  that  we  were  allowed  to  catch:  Before  we 
were  big  enough  to  have  a  gun,  grandpa  taught 
us  how  to  make  bird-traps.  He  took  four  flat 
sticks  about  three  feet  long  and  laid  them  down 
in  a  square;  then  he  took  four  more  a  little 
shorter  and  then  four  more  a  little  shorter  still, 
and  so  on  until  the  trap  was  real  small  at  the 
top,  and  then  he  fastened  a  stout  stick  over 
the  top  of  it  to  hold  it  together,  and  slipped  a 
shingle  over  the  hole  at  the  top.  Then  he  made 
what  he  called  a  figure  4  trigger  and  set  one 
side  of  the  trap  up  on  it;  then  he  covered  the 
trap  with  a  little  straw  after  he  had  set  it  out 
where  the  birds  stayed;  then  when  the  birds 
went  in  the  trap  after  the  wheat  or  whatever  it 
was  baited  with,  they  would  touch  the  long  stick 
that  was  called  the  trigger,  and  down  would 
come  the  trap  with  the  birds  inside.  Of  course, 


TRAPPING.  225 

we  would  not  catch  any  of  the  birds  right  around 
the  house  or  any  but  those  that  were  good  to  eat. 
We  would  take  the  trap  away  out  in  the  field 
and  catch  wild  pigeons  or  partridges.  I  have 
seen  grandpa  set  a  big  trap  for  wild  pigeons  and 
catch  as  many  as  twenty  at  once.  That  would 
be  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  when  the  pigeons  were 
in  the  wheat-fields  picking  up  the  wheat  that 
had  been  sowed.  Then  in  the  winter,  when  the 
snow  was  on  the  ground,  we  would  set  the  trap 
away  out  in  the  field  where  the  partridges  were, 
and  put  straw  or  fodder  on  it,  so  they  would 
come  there  looking  for  something  to  eat,  and 
sometimes  we  would  catch  eight  or  ten  at  a  time. 
Sometimes  we  would  find  the  trap  down,  and 
when  we  went  to  it  to  take  out  the  birds  we 
would  find  nothing  in  it  and  two  or  three  of  the 
sticks  gnawed  in  two,  making  a  hole  just  big 
enough  for  a  rabbit  to  get  out;  but  we  got  even 
with  Mr.  Rabbit  by  making  a  strong  box-trap 
out  of  oak  boards  and  fixing  it  so  that  when  it 
closed  up  there  was  no  place  for  the  rabbit  to  get 
hold  of  with  his  teeth;  then  when  we  lifted  up 
the  lid  of  the  box  to  get  the  rabbit  out,  we  had 
a  time  to  catch  him,  and  sometimes  he  got 
away." 

"Didn't  the  birds  sometimes  get  away  too, 


226  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

when  you  lifted  up  the  trap  to  take  them  out?" 
asked  the  little  boy. 

"We  didn't  lift  up  the  trap.  Don't  you 
know  that  the  trap  was  small  at  the  top  and  was 
closed  up  by  a  shingle  ?  Well,  we  would  slip  the 
shingle  to  one  side  just  enough  to  put  in  one 
arm  and  get  out  the  birds. 

' '  Grandpa  used  to  tell  me  how  they  made  traps 
to  catch  wild  turkeys  when  he  was  a  boy.  At  that 
time,  you  know,  the  country  was  wild  and  new, 
and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  game  of  all  kinds. 
Well,  when  they  wanted  to  catch  some  wild  tur- 
keys, they  first  found  out  where  the  turkeys  were 
accustomed  to  feed;  then  they  built  a  big  rail 
pen  and  covered  it  over  with  boards  and  cov- 
ered the  boards  and  sometimes  almost  the  entire 
pen  with  weeds  and  brush;  then  they  would 
dig  a  long  ditch  leading  right  under  the  pen; 
then  they  would  put  a  wide  board  over  the  part 
of  the  ditch  just  inside  of  the  pen,  but  leaving 
plenty  of  room  for  the  biggest  turkeys  to  get 
under  the  pen  and  the  board;  then  they  would 
scatter  some  corn  all  along  the  ditch  and  into 
the  pen.  The  turkeys  would  come  along  and 
see  the  corn  and  all  run  along  eating  it,  each  one 
trying  to  get  the  most,  until  they  all  got  inside. 
As  soon  as  they  would  get  the  corn  all  eaten  up 


TRAPPING.  227 

they  would  raise  their  heads  and  find  out  that 
they  were  in  a  pen;  then  they  would  get  scared 
and  begin  to  run  around  the  edge  of  the  pen, 
trying  to  get  out.  They  are  such  foolish  birds 
that  they  never  think  about  going  out  by  the 
ditch,  the  way  they  came  in,  but  run  around  and 
around  the  edge  of  the  pen  and  run  right  over 
the  ditch  on  the  board  that  had  been  put  there 
for  them.  A  whole  flock  of  wild  turkeys  will 
get  into  a  pen  and  stay  in  there  all  day,  and 
nearly  run  themselves  to  death  around  the  pen, 
and  not  one  of  them  have  sense  enough  or  even 
enough  good  luck  to  go  to  the  middle  of  the  pen 
and  put  his  head  down  and  go  out  by  way  of  the 
ditch.  Grandpa  said  that  he  and  his  brothers 
had  caught  as  many  as  eight  or  ten  at  a  time 
that  way,  and  all  they  had  to  do  after  setting 
the  trap  was  to  go  back  to  it  in  the  afternoon 
and  crawl  in  through  the  ditch  and  catch  the 
turkeys.  Then  they  would  have  big  fat  wild 
turkey  to  eat  for  a  whole  week." 

"Goodness!"  said  the  little  boy.  "That 
was  fine.  Don't  you  wish  we  had  lived  when 
there  was  plenty  of  turkeys  ? ' ' 

"Well,"  said  papa,  "you  must  remember 
that  if  we  had,  we  wouldn't  be  living  now,  and 
that  we  get  a  great  many  things  now  that  they 


228  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

never  heard  of  in  those  days.  They  got  a  news- 
paper but  once  a  week,  and  very  few  of  them 
saw  one  that  often.  There  were  no  railroads  or 
telegraph  lines,  and  if  anybody  had  come  along 
and  told  them  that  some  day  people  would  be 
talking  to  each  other  over  a  wire  when  they 
were  ten  miles  apart,  they  would  probably  have 
put  him  in  jail  for  being  crazy.  Still,  those  were 
pretty  good  old  times,  and,  after  all,  it  isn't  so 
much  the  time  you  live  in  as  the  way  you  live 
that  makes  you  happy.  There  have  been  hap- 
py people  and  unhappy  people  ever  since  the 
days  of  Adam." 

"What  else  did  you  catch  in  the  traps, 
papa?" 

"Oh!  we  used  to  set  steel  traps,  like  the  one 
in  the  cellar,  and  catch  rats  and  muskrats  and 
minks  and  weasels,  and  sometimes  polecats. 
Let  me  tell  you  a  true  story  about  an  old  fox 
that  we  tried  to  catch  in  a  steel  trap  one  time. 
One  day  one  of  the  men  who  was  working  on  the 
place  saw  an  old  red  fox  jump  out  of  a  hole  in  a 
big  hollow  sycamore  tree;  then  he  looked  in  a 
hole  near  the  bottom  of  the  tree,  and  saw  five 
little  balls  of  red  fur  curled  up  in  the  bottom  of 
the  hole.  The  tree  was  hollow  clear  to  the 
ground,  and  they  had  a  nice  nest  of  sticks  and 


TRAPPING.  229 

leaves  and  decayed  wood.  We  took  them  out 
and  looked  at  them,  but  they  were  so  young 
that  they  did  not  have  their  eyes  open,  so  we 
put  them  back,  thinking  that  we  would  get  them 
when  they  got  older,  but  what  do  you  think? 
The  next  morning  they  were  all  gone.  That  old 
mother  fox  could  tell  by  the  smell  that  some- 
body had  found  her  babies,  and  she  had  taken 
them  away  and  hidden  them.  Well,  we  looked 
for  those  foxes  all  day,  and  at  last  we  saw  a  big 
sugar- tree  with  a  hole  in  it  about  three  feet  from 
the  ground.  We  looked  in,  and  there,  sure 
enough,  were  the  little  foxes,  as  snug  as  you 
please,  and  there  was  a  big  dead  groundhog  in 
the  nest  with  them,  that  I  suppose  the  old  fox 
had  brought  there  for  her  supper.  We  made  up 
our  minds  that  we  just  had  to  have  those  foxes, 
so  we  set  about  a  plan  to  catch  the  old  fox. 
First,  we  cut  some  slabs  of  wood  and  fastened 
them  across  the  inside  of  the  tree  about  a  foot 
below  the  opening,  so  that  the  old  fox  when  she 
went  to  jump  down  into  the  hole  would  have  to 
put  her  feet  on  the  slabs;  then  we  set  a  steel 
trap  on  the  slabs;  then,  for  fear  the  old  fox 
would  be  too  sharp  to  go  in  the  hole,  we  set 
another  trap  outside  on  the  ground  and  covered 
it  up  with  leaves.  Next  morning  we  went  out 


230  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

to  the  woods  early  to  get  our  foxes,  and  all  we 
could  find  was  a  trap  with  some  blood  on  it  and 
a  big  hole  dug  under  the  roots  of  that  tree. 
There  wasn't  a  fox  in  sight,  big  or  little.  That 
old  fox  had  been  caught  in  the  outside  trap,  and 
some  leaves  had  evidently  got  in  by  the  side  of 
her  foot  and  that  had  helped  her  to  get  her  foot 
out.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  blood  on  the 
leaves,  though,  and  we  knew  that  her  foot  had 
been  badly  hurt.  Then  she  had  been  too  smart 
to  go  into  the  hole  and  get  caught  in  the  other 
trap,  but  she  didn't  give  up  and  run  away  and 
leave  her  little  ones.  She  could  not  get  to  them 
on  account  of  the  slabs  across  the  hollow  in  the 
tree,  so  she  just  went  to  work,  with  one  foot 
bleeding  and  probably  broken,  and  dug  a  hole 
right  under  the  roots  of  the  tree,  and  took  every 
one  of  her  little  foxes  away,  and  we  couldn't 
find  them,  either,  although  we  looked  all  day. 
Grandpa  didn't  want  us  to  try  to  find  her  any 
more  after  she  had  been  so  smart  and  brave, 
and  he  was  glad  when  we  failed.  I  expect  that 
if  we  had  found  her  again,  he  wouldn't  have  al- 
lowed us  to  disturb  her. 

"Well,  about  six  months  later  we  saw  tha.t 
old  fox  again.  We  had  a  big  flock  of  sheep  in 
that  piece  of  woods  that  winter,  and  one  day 


TRAPPING.  231 

when  grandpa  went  out  to  feed  the  sheep  he  saw 
the  fox  right  among  the  sheep.  She  was  walk- 
ing on  three  feet  and  holding  up  one  front  foot, 
so  we  knew  that  it  was  the  same  fox.  There 
were  no  little  lambs  among  the  sheep,  so  the  fox 
was  not  doing  any  harm  there,  and  we  all  saw 
ner  nearly  a  dozen  times  that  winter,  and  she 
always  seemed  to  be  staying  among  the  sheep 
and  they  never  seemed  to  be  afraid  of  her. 
That  was  something  that  I  never  exactly  under- 
stood, and  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  heard  of  a 
case  just  like  it,  but  I  am  telling  you  about  it 
just  as  it  happened.  The  next  winter  they 
chased  foxes  a  good  deal  with  hounds,  and  we 
never  saw  the  old  lame  fox  any  more." 


I  WON'T  DO   IT. 


u  \/ES»  SIR»  l  will>"  said  the  little  b°y  one 

Y     day,  when  papa  had  told  him  to  do 

something;  "I  will  in  des  a  minute." 
"You  had  better  do  it  now,  and  then  you  will 
be  sure  not  to  forget  it,  and  besides,  you  will 
have  it  off  your  mind.  You  remind  me  of  a 
negro  man  by  the  name  of  Bill,  who  used  to  work 
for  your  grandpa.  When  Bill  came  to  hire  out 
to  us,  grandpa  asked  him  his  name.  '  My  name, 
sah,  hit  's  William  Henry  Ha'ison  Bill  Jackson.' 

"  Bill  used  to  say  he  wouldn't  do  what  he  was 
told,  but  he  always  went  right  along  and  did  it. 
You  say  you  will,  and  then  don't  do  it." 

"Would  he  tell  grandpa  he  wouldn't  do  it?" 
asked  the  little  boy  in  amazement. 

'  '  Oh,  no  !  He  wouldn't  let  grandpa  hear  him 
say  he  wouldn't  do  it;  but  there  is  where  the 
story  conies  in,"  said  papa. 

"Oh,  tell  me  about  it!"  said  the  little  boy, 
forgetting  what  his  papa  had  told  him  to  do; 
but,  catching  himself  suddenly,  he  said:  "Wait 
till  I  come  back  and  then  tell  me  about  it."  So 

232 


"  I  WON'T  DO  IT." 


233 


away  he  ran  to  do  what  he  had  been  told,  and 
then  hurried  back.  "Now  tell  me  about  Bill," 
he  said,  settling  himself  down  in  a  comfortable 
position  to  hear  a  story. 

"Well,  in  the  winter-time  out  in  the  country 


"I  WON'T  DO  IT— YAS,  SUH;  YAS,  SUH,  I  WILL." 

there  wasn't  very  much  to  do  but  feed  the  stock, 
and  Bill  used  to  start  out  every  morning,  after 
he  had  fed  the  horses  and  milked  the  cows,  to 
feed  the  rest  of  the  stock.  He  would  hitch  two 
horses  to  the  big  sled  and  haul  big  loads  of  fod- 
der to  the  cattle.  We  boys  always  liked  to  go 


234  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

with  him,  so  we  could  ride  on  top  of  the  high 
loads.  We  liked  it  especially  when  there  was  a 
little  snow  on  the  ground,  because  then  the  sled 
ran  more  smoothly  and  we  could  go  faster. 
One  day  we  had  finished  hauling  the  fodder  and 
were  about  to  come  to  the  house,  when  grandpa 
called  over  in  the  field: 

"'OBill!' 

"  'Suh?'  answered  Bill,  stopping  his  horses. 

"  'Go  down  in  the  woods  before  you  come 
home  and  bring  some  rails  up  to  make  a  pen  for 
the  hogs.' 

"  '  Yas,  suh,'  answered  Bill,  calling  back  loud, 
so  grandpa  could  hear  him;  then  he  went  around 
on  the  other  side  of  the  horses  from  grandpa, 
and  began  to  flounce  around  like  a  boy  when  he 
doesn't  want  to  do  something,  and  said  just  loud 
enough  for  us  boys  to  hear  him: 

"  'I  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  it.  I  ain't  a-goin' 
after  no  rails  at  all,  I  ain't.  I  don't  want  to  get 
no  rails.  You  don't  need  no  rails  nohow.  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  do  it.  You  kin  jes  go  get  yo' 
ole  rails  yo'se'f.' 

"At  first  we  were  so  surprised  we  didn't 
know  what  to  do,  but  it  did  not  take  us  a  minute 
to  see  that  Bill  was  just  carrying  on  to  please  us 
boys;  and,  of  course,  Bill  went  rie:ht.  along  and 


"  I  WON'T  DO  IT."  235 

got  the  rails,  but  he  kept  grumbling  and  saying 
all  the  ridiculous  things  he  could  think  of  all  the 
way  out  to  the  woods.  After  a  while  he  began 
to  talk  seriously  again,  and  he  said: 

"  'Dat  remin's  me  o'  what  ole  Mistah  Clay- 
brook  used  to  say  to  his  han's.  Sometimes  some 
o'  de  smaht  Alecks  amonx  the  han's  would 
think  'at  de  ole  man  done  made  a  mistake 
maybe  'bout  tellin'  'em  how  to  do  sompin'  er 
nother,  er  dey  'd  think  dey  knowd  a  bettah  way 
to  do  it  dan  what  he  tol'  'em,  en  dey  'd  go  a- 
bustin'  ahead  en  do  it  dey  own  way.  Den  de 
ole  man,  he  'd  come  out  in  de  fiel'  en  see  how 
dey  done  took  en  done  de  work,  en  den  he  'd 
git  aftah  'em  good  en  ha'd. 

"'  "W'y,  Mahs  Billy,"  dey  'd  say,  "I  thought 
hit  was  a  whole  heaps  bettah  dat  way  dan  de 
way  you  tole  me,  en  I  jes'  took  en  done  it  what 
I  thought  was  de  bestes'  way." 

"' " Nevah  min',  nevah  min',"  say  Uncle  Bil- 
ly, a-rantin'  'roun'  te'ible;  "you  do  what  I  tells 
you  to  do,  an'  den  if  hit  's  wrong,  hit  's  right." 
An'  dem  niggahs  mighty  soon  foun'  out  dat  hit 
was  a  heap  nigher  right  to  be  wrong  dan  it  was 
to  be  right,  jes'  so  long  as  dey  done  what  dey 
was  tol'  to  do.' 

"And  Bill  chuckled  a  good  deal  to  himself 
over  the  story  about  it  being  right  to  be  wrong. 


236  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"One  day  Uncle  Ben  and  I  were  out  with 
Bill  on  the  sled  again,  and  grandpa  called  away 
across  the  field: 

"  'OBill!' 

"  'Suh?' 

"  *  Bring  a  load  of  corn  when  you  come  in.' 

"Bill  was  thinking  more  about  making  us 
boys  laugh  than  he  was  about  what  he  was  doing, 
so  he  yelled  back  to  grandpa  as  loud  as  ever  he 
could,  and  pretending  to  be  awfully  mad: 

"  'I  won't  do  it;   yas,  suh;   yas,  suh,  I  will.' 

' '  Grandpa  looked  very  much  astonished  for  a 
minute,  and  I  think  he  was  about  to  get  mad 
too,  but  just  then  he  heard  us  boys  laugh,  and 
saw  that  Bill  was  very  much  embarrassed,  and 
he  just  turned  around  and  went  toward  the  house 
without  saying  anything,  and  I  thought  I  could 
see  him  laughing  too.  Bill  was  unusually  po- 
lite when  he  came  back,  and  after  a  while  grand- 
pa said: 

"  'Well,  you  got  your  lines  mixed  this  morn- 
ing, didn't  you?' 

"  'No,  suh;  no,  suh,  I  didn't  have  de  lines 
crossed.  Ole  Logan  got  his  tail  ovah  de  line  an' 
kinder  run  me  ofFn  de  road.  You  's  de  beat- 
enest  man  to  see  bof  sides  an'  'fore  an'  behin'  I 
evah  did  see.  Whah  'bouts  was  you  at,  any- 
how?' 


"I  WON'T  DO  IT."  237 

"  '  I  didn't  mean  that,'  said  grandpa,  smiling 
at  Bill's  mistake,  and  also  to  think  he  had  made 
Bill  tell  on  himself.  'I  meant  when  you  were 
answering  me  about  the  corn.  You  see,  I  can 
hear  and  see,  too.' 

"  'Yas,  suh;  yas,  suh,'  said  Bill,  more  con- 
fused than  ever.  'I  was  jes*  a-foolin'  wid  de 
chillun,  an'  I — I  did  git  kinder  mixed  up;  I 
sholy  did,  suh.'" 


GRANDPA'S  DOG  COALY. 


ADDY'" said  the  little  ^y* <<teU  me 

one  story  before  I  have  to  go  to  bed, 
won't  you?     Sumpin'  about  Shep  or 

some  dog.     I  like  to  hear  about  dogs  when  they 

are    good    dogs. 

Think  real  hard  and 

you    can   remember 

sumpin'  you  haven't 

ever   told    me    be- 
fore." 

"Well,"  said 

papa,  "I  '11  tell  you 

about    a   big   black 

dog  that  grandpa 

told    me    about. 

This   was  grandpa's 

dog,    and    he    lived 

when  grandpa  was  a  young  man.     I  11  tell  you 

the  story  just  as  he  told  it  to  me. 

"  'When  I  was  a  young  man,'  said  grandpa, 

'  I  had  a  big  fine  dog  that  was  as  black  as  a  lump 

of  shiny  coal.     He  was  so  black  that  I  named 

238 


'Go  after  him,  Coalyl" 


GRANDPA'S  DOG  COALY.  239 

him  "Coaly"  when  he  was  a  little  pup.  He 
grew  up  to  be  a  great  big  dog,  and  was  just  as 
smart  as  he  could  be.  He  thought  more  of  me 
than  he  did  of  anybody  else,  because  he  was  my 
dog  and  I  took  care  of  him  when  he  was  little; 
but  somehow  a  dog  seems  always  to  know  who 
his  master  is,  whether  his  master  is  good  to  him 
or  not. 

"  '  One  hot  summer  night  two  of  my  brothers 
and  I  were  sleeping  in  a  large  room  on  the  lower 
floor.  Uncle  Tom  and  I  were  in  one  bed  and 
Uncle  Ed,  who  was  the  oldest,  was  in  the  other. 

"  '  Nobody  ever  thought  of  locking  a  door  or 
fastening  a  window  in  those  days,  and  we  had 
both  windows  of  the  room  wide  open  so  we  could 
get  plenty  of  air.  Our  windows  were  only  about 
four  feet  from  the  ground,  and  a  man  or  a  dog 
could  have  come  in  without  any  trouble  at  all. 

"  'Away  along  about  midnight  I  heard  Coaly 
growl;  then  he  jumped  up  and  ran  as  hard  as  he 
could  out  toward  the  stable.  He  stood  at  the 
yard  fence  barking  a  minute,  and  then  he  came 
tearing  back  to  the  house.  He  ran  up  on  the 
porch,  and  I  heard  him  scratching  at  our  door. 
He  stopped  barking  and  scratched  at  the  door  a 
little  while  and  then  stopped,  as  if  he  were 
listening;  then  he  scratched  again  and  whined. 


240  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"  'I  jumped  out  of  bed  and  said:  "There  's 
something  wrong  somewhere.  That  dog  wants 
somebody  to  go  with  him." 

"  '  "Oh!  he  is  just  barking  at  other  dogs,  I 
expect,"  said  Uncle  Tom.  ' '  Lie  down  and  don't 
pay  any  attention  to  him,  and  he  will  go  away 
in  a  minute." 

"  'Just  as  I  jumped  out  of  the  bed  Coaly 
heard  me  and  gave  a  little  sharp  bark  and  start- 
ed off  the  porch  again  as  hard  as  he  could  go.  I 
didn't  open  the  door,  though,  and  he  came  run- 
ning back.  Then  he  stopped  and  listened  a 
while,  and  then  went  to  scratching  and  whining. 
When  he  saw  that  I  was  not  going  to  pay  any 
attention  to  him,  he  ran  off  the  porch  and  around 
to  the  window.  He  jumped  up  with  his  fore 
feet  in  the  window  and  barked  as  loud  as  he 
could.  He  fairly  howled,  he  was  so  excited.  I 
didn't  stop  another  minute  then,  but  jumped 
clear  of  the  bed  at  one  leap,  and  had  my  breeches 
on  before  you  could  say  "Jack  Robinson."  I 
put  on  my  shoes  without  any  stockings  and  put 
up  my  suspenders  as  I  ran. 

"  'The  minute  I  opened  the  door,  Coaly 
started  off  as  hard  as  he  could  run  toward  the 
stable.  I  couldn't  keep  up  with  him,  and  he 
would  turn  around  and  come  back  and  seemed 


GRANDPA'S  DOG  COALY.  241 

to  try  to  get  me  to  go  faster.  I  knew  by  this 
time  that  something  very  serious  was  the  mat- 
ter, and  began  to  feel  a  little  vexed  at  the  other 
boys  for  not  paying  any  attention  to  him.  One 
of  them  had  said,  just  as  I  went  out  of  the  door, 
"  I  hope  you  and  the  dog  will  catch  the  moon," 
and  the  other  one  said,  "Bring  us  a  bear  if  you 
catch  one."  I  was  also  beginning  to  be  sorry 
that  I  had  not  brought  my  gun  with  me. 

'Coaly  and  I  jumped  the  fence  together, 
and  away  he  went  right  straight  to  the  stable. 
Just  as  we  got  there,  what  do  you  think  ?  Here 
came  a  man  out  of  the  stable,  leading  my  fine 
saddle-horse.  He  saw  us  coming,  and  jumped 
on  the  horse  and  galloped  off  as  fast  as  he  could 
go.  I  yelled,  "Sick  'im,  Coaly!"  and  gave  an- 
other yell  that  ought  to  have  startled  all  the 
people  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Away  went 
the  horse-thief,  with  Coaly  and  me  right  after 
him  as  hard  as  we  could  go.  Coaly  kept  up 
with  him  pretty  well  and  was  grabbing  at  his 
feet,  but  I  was  getting  left  behind.  What  I 
couldn't  do  in  running,  though,  I  made  up  in 
yelling. 

"  '  I  heard  the  other  boys  at  the  house  come 
out,  and  heard  Uncle  Tom  say,  "Come  on,  Ed, 
and  bring  the  gun."  By  this  time  the  man  was 


242  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

almost  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  I  knew  he 
would  have  to  stop  there  to  open  the  gate.  I 
urged  on  the  dog  and  ran  faster  myself  to  try  to 
catch  him  before  he  could  get  the  gate  open  and 
get  a  fresh  start.  The  gate  was  fastened  with  a 
chain,  and  I  knew  that  if  he  had  come  that  way 
when  he  came,  he  would  know  how  it  was  fas- 
tened, and  be  able  to  open  it  very  quickly.  He 
rode  up  to  the  gate  and  tried  to  open  it  with- 
out getting  off.  He  knew  that  if  he  got  off 
the  horse,  the  dog  would  be  on  him  before  he 
could  mount  again.  He  fumbled  at  it  a  while 
and  then  gave  it  a  big  push  with  his  foot.  Old 
Coaly  was  right  up  with  him  now  and  grabbing 
at  his  feet.  Suddenly,  when  I  was  within  a  few 
yards  of  him,  the  gate  flew  open,  and  away 
he  went. 

"  'I  felt  as  if  the  chase  was  over,  and  began 
to  think  how  hard  it  would  be  for  me  to  get  along 
without  my  saddle-horse,  but  I  still  sicked  on 
the  dog  and  kept  running  myself,  although  I  was 
nearly  out  of  breath.  The  horse-thief  evidently 
didn't  know  the  way  out  of  that  field,  though, 
for  he  turned  right  down  a  little  path  that  led  to 
another  gate.  I  knew  he  would  have  a  time 
opening  that  one,  for  I  had  been  through  there 
that  afternoon,  and  came  very  near  saying 


GRANDPA'S  DOG  COALY.  243 

something  ugly  about  that  old  gate.  Now  I 
hoped  that  it  would  be  more  contrary  than  ever. 

"  'He  dug  his  heels  into  the  horse  and  tried 
to  make  him  go  faster,  but  the  horse  knew  where 
the  gate  was,  and  he  stopped  so  suddenly  that 
old  Mr.  Thief  came  near  going  over  his  head. 
Coaly  and  I  had  got  so  close  to  him  at  the  other 
gate  that  he  had  not  had  time  to  get  very  far 
away  from  us.  He  looked  at  the  gate  and  then 
looked  around. at  us  coming.  I  had  picked  up  a 
big  hickory  club,  and  Coaly  was  growling  and 
showing  his  teeth  and  had  his  bristles  up  as  if  he 
meant  business.  He  looked  back  at  us  just  once, 
and  then  rode  up  close  to  the  fence,  jumped  over 
it,  and  fairly  flew  down  the  hill  through  the 
bushes.  Coaly  followed  him  a  little  way,  but  he 
escaped  in  the  brush.  I  was  too  tired  to  go  any 
further,  while  the  thief  was  fresh  and  could,  of 
course,  have  outrun  me.  I  was  glad  enough  to 
take  my  horse  and  go  back  home.  Coaly  trotted 
along  beside  me,  growling  every  now  and  then, 
as  if  it  made  him  madder  every  time  he  thought 
of  it. 

'  'And  I  did  some  mighty  nice  talking  to 
Coaly,  too,  I  '11  tell  you;  and  after  that  nobody 
said  Coaly  was  barking  at  the  moon  when  he 
made  a  fuss  at  night.'  ' 


THE  FOX-HUNT. 

U  I  WISH  that  old  dog  would  stop  barkin'," 

said  the  little  boy  one  night  as  he  tossed 

about  in  the  bed.     ' '  He  won't  let  me  go  to 

sleep  at  all.     I  wonder  if  he  sees  burgles?    Do 

you  think  they  would  try  to  get  in  this  house?" 

"That  dog  isn't  worrying  about  any  bur- 
glars," answered  papa,  who  was  writing  at  a 
table  near  by.  He  was  busy,  and  didn't  feel  as 
if  he  had  much  time  to  talk,  even  to  his  little  boy. 

"I  b'lieve  that  dog  's  crying,"  said  the  little 
boy.  "  I  wonder  if  he  is  losted.  " 

Papa  did  not  answer  at  all  this  time,  and  the 
little  boy  shut  his  eyes  tight  and  tried  hard  to 
go  to  sleep. 

"Daddy,  do  you  know  any  stories  about  any 
dog  gettin'  losted,  or  anything?"  asked  the  little 
boy,  after  he  had  tried  in  vain  for  one  whole 
minute  to  go  to  sleep. 

Papa  looked  up  and  put  away  his  writing. 
"That  is  an  old  hound  dog,"  he  said,  "and  I 
would  like  to  know  what  anybody  in  a  city 
wants  with  a  hound.  Maybe  he  is  crying  be- 


244 


THE    FINEST    MUSIC    THAT    YOU    EVER    HEARD. 


THE  FOX-HUNT.  247 

cause  he  has  to  live  in  a  city  where  there  are  no 
foxes  to  hunt." 

' '  Do  hound  dogs  hunt  foxes  ?  Tell  me  about 
'em,"  pleaded  the  little  boy,  who  saw  his  father 
putting  up  his  work,  and  began  to  have  hopes  of 
a  story  before  he  went  to  sleep. 

' '  Well,  I  '11  tell  you  about  one  of  the  first  fox- 
hunts that  I  remember,"  said  papa,  lying  down 
on  the  bed  by  the  side  of  the  little  boy. 

"One  day,  when  I  was  a  pretty  big  boy, 
grandpa  and  I  were  going  out  to  the  big  woods 
for  a  sled-load  of  wood.  I  was  not  big  enough  to 
do  much  work,  but  I  went  along  just  to  be  with 
grandpa.  As  we  went  through  the  bars  into 
the  big  pasture  I  noticed  a  peculiar  smell,  and 
I  said:  'Goodness  me!  Papa,  what  is  that  I 
smell?  There  must  be  a  polecat  somewhere 
around  here.' 

"Grandpa  had  already  stopped  putting  up 
the  bars,  and  was  looking  each  way  up  and  down 
the  fence,  and  taking  a  whiff  at  the  air  himself. 
'That's  no  polecat,'  said  grandpa;  'that's  a 
fox,  and  it  hasn't  been  long  since  he  passed 
right  along  here,  either.  We  might  have  seen 
him  if  we  had  been  looking  the  right  way.' 

"Then  grandpa  went  ahead  putting  up  the 
bars,  but  before  he  got  through  he  stopped,  with 


248  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

the  top  bar  in  his  hand,  and  said,  '  Listen,  listen,' 
and  pointed  off  along  the  line  of  old  rail  fence 
toward  the  east.  I  looked  in  the  direction  he 
pointed,  and,  sure  enough,  I  heard  as  pretty 
music  as  you  ever  heard  in  your  life.  It  was 
nothing  more  than  a  big  lot  of  hounds  on  the 
trail  of  that  fox,  but  if  you  ever  hear  about  a 
dozen  hounds  on  a  hot  fox- trail,  you  will  say 
that  you  never  knew  dogs  could  make  such 
music.  They  were  not  in  sight  yet,  but  we 
could  hear  them  away  over  the  hills.  Some  of 
them  had  big  coarse  voices  and  some  had  fine 
voices,  and  it  sounded  as  if  the  leader  would 
give  a  great  long  bark,  and  then  each  one  would 
take  it  up,  and  all  with  different  voices.  It  was 
a  fine  frosty  morning  in  November,  and  the  air 
was  just  a  little  bit  hazy,  and  we  could  hear  the 
hounds  long  before  they  came  near  us.  Some- 
times, when  they  were  on  top  of  a  hill,  we  could 
hear  them  almost  as  plainly  as  if  they  were  right 
near  us,  and  then  they  would  get  down  in  a 
hollow,  and  we  would  hear  them  very  faintly. 
After  a  while,  here  they  came  over  the  hill,  right 
along  the  line  of  old  worm-fence.  There  was  a 
great  big  spotted  dog  in  the  lead  and  just  be- 
hind him  was  a  big  brown  dog,  then  one  almost 
white,  and  then  more  spotted  and  brown  ones. 


THE  FOX-HUNT.  249 

There  were  about  ten  in  all,  and  they  ran  in 
single  file,  and  the  dogs  behind  never  tried  to 
pass  the  ones  in  front.  All  of  them  had  their 
tails  curved  up  over  their  backs  and  their  noses 
almost  on  the  ground,  so  they  could  smell  the 
fox's  tracks.  They  would  run  in  that  way  a 
while,  and  then  the  leader  would  raise  his  head 
and  give  a  long  bay.  As  soon  as  he  began  to 
bay,  the  next  would  begin,  and  before  the  first 
one  would  get  through,  all  the  voices  would  be 
going.  Then  they  would  put  their  noses  back 
to  the  ground  and  run  all  the  faster.  Grandpa 
and  I  stood  still  and  watched  them  go  by.  They 
passed  right  between  us  and  the  fence,  and  paid 
no  more  attention  to  us  than  if  we  had  been 
fence-posts.  Grandpa  waved  his  hat  at  them 
and  cheered  as  they  went  by,  and  I  thought  I 
saw  two  or  three  of  the  hindmost  ones  look  out 
of  the  corners  of  their  eyes  and  almost  smile  at 
him  and  maybe  wag  their  tails  a  little  more,  but 
that  was  all;  and  away  they  went,  over  the  big 
field  and  down  the  hill  into  the  woods.  We 
heard  them  for  a  long  time.  They  must  have 
been  more  than  a  mile  away  before  their  voices 
died  away  entirely. 

"We  had  got  our  load  of  wood,  and  grandpa 
had  stayed  down  in  the  woods  longer  than  he 


250  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

had  intended,  fixing  a  fence,  and  we  were  on  our 
way  back  with  the  second  load  when  we  heard 
them  again  in  the  same  place  where  we  had  first 
heard  them.  When  they  came  in  sight  we  saw 
that  this  time  a  big  brown  dog  was  in  the  lead. 
We  watched  the  dogs  come  over  the  hill  east  of 
us  again,  but  as  they  came  along  the  fence  they 
all  stopped  and  began  to  circle  around,  wagging 
their  tails  and  keeping  their  noses  very  close  to 
the  ground.  They  stopped  baying,  and  circled 
around  near  the  fence  a  long  time. 

"  'That  old  fox  has  fooled  them,'  said  grand- 
pa. '  He  has  jumped  up  on  the  fence  and  run 
along  a  little  way,  and  they  can't  follow  his 
trail.  Just  wait  till  one  of  them  finds  the  place 
where  he  jumped  off  on  the  ground  again,  and 
you  will  see  some  hurrying.  While  they  are 
trying  to  find  his  trail  again,  he  is  getting  that 
much  further  away.' 

"Presently  a  little  black  dog  jumped  over 
the  fence  and  went  in  a  wide  circle  away  out  in 
the  field.  As  he  came  back  toward  the  fence 
again,  he  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  as  if  he 
would  wag  his  tail  off;  then  he  took  a  short 
circle,  and  when  he  struck  the  trail  again,  he 
gave  two  sharp  yelps  and  started  off  down  the 
hill,  as  if  the  fox  was  right  ahead  of  him.  Every 


THE  FOX-HUNT.  251 

dog  stopped  hunting  and  tumbled  over  the  fence 
and  started  after  the  little  black  dog,  just  as 
hard  as  he  could  go.  The  little  black  dog  was 
terribly  excited,  because  he  was  in  the  lead,  and 
once  he  stuck  his  nose  so  close  to  the  ground 
that  it  struck  a  clod  or  something  and  he  tum- 
bled head  over  heels;  but  he  got  up,  still  in  the 
lead,  and  as  they  passed  us,  he  was  running 
ahead  and  fairly  making  the  air  ring  with  his 
little  shrill  voice." 

"Didn't  the  big  dogs  make  him  get  away 
and  let  them  get  in  the  lead?"  asked  the  little 
boy. 

"No,  indeed.  When  he  fell  down,  the  next 
dog  came  mighty  near  getting  his  place,  but  as 
long  as  he  was  going  right  ahead  and  attending 
to  business,  the  rest  of  them  did  not  try  to 
get  ahead  of  him;  they  stayed  in  a  row,  one 
behind  the  other;  the  last  dog  that  got  over  the 
fence  when  the  little  black  dog  found  the  trail 
again,  staying  behind  without  trying  to  get  any 
other  dog's  place.  They  ran  in  that  way  until 
they  reached  the  middle  of  the  big  pasture,  and 
then  they  ran  into  a  big  drove  of  grandpa's 
cattle. 

"  '  Now  they  are  going  to  have  trouble  again,' 
said  grandpa.  'That  old  fox  has  run  among 


252  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

that  bunch  of  cattle,  and  they  will  lose  the 
trail  again/ 

"Sure  enough,  they  got  confused,  and  the 
little  black  dog  that  had  the  lead  circled  around 
and  yelped  as  if  he  were  crazy.  Then  they  all 
stopped  barking  again  and  began  to  look  for  the 
trail.  At  last  the  old  spotted  dog  found  it,  and, 
giving  a  single  deep  bay,  he  started  off  down  the 
hill,  with  all  of  them  falling  into  line  as  fast  as 
they  could.  The  poor  little  black  dog  was  al- 
most the  last  one. 

"  'Oh!  oh!  little  Blacky,'  said  grandpa,  'you 
didn't  keep  the  lead  very  long,  did  you?  He  's 
nothing  but  a  puppy,  though,'  he  said,  turning 
to  me,  'and  he  will  learn  not  to  get  so  excited 
when  he  gets  older. 

"  'I  think  I  '11  follow  them  a  little  while,' 
said  grandpa,  slipping  the  harness  off  old  Beck 
and  hitching  Logan  to  the  fence.  'You  run 
along  home,  and  I  '11  bring  in  the  load  of  wood 
after  a  while.' 

' '  And  before  I  could  say  '  Scat ! '  grandpa  was 
tearing  down  through  the  woods  bareback,  and 
yelling  to  the  hounds  like  a  wild  man.  It 
wasn't  long  until  he  came  around  the  pike  to  the 
house  with  several  men,  who  had  big  hunting- 
horns,  and  when  he  took  the  men  in  the  house 


THE  FOX-HUNT.  253 

to  get  a  drink  of  water  or  something,  he  called 
to  a  black  boy  working  in  the  garden,  and  said: 
'  Dan,  put  the  saddle  and  bridle  on  the  new  mare 
I  got  the  other  day  and  bring  her  up  right  quick. 
I  '11  see  if  I  can't  give  her  exercise  enough  to 
make  her  stop  prancing. '  Then  they  all  galloped 
away  together. 

"  'Papa!  papa!'  I  yelled  after  him;  'take  me 
with  you?' 

"  'Why,  of  course,'  he  said,  and  wheeled 
around  and  took  me  up  behind  him. 

"  'Maybe  that  pup  will  get  over  being  ex- 
cited when  he  gets  older,  but  we  don't  all  get 
over  it,  do  we  ? '  he  said,  as  we  rode  off  after  the 
rest  of  the  men. 

"We  galloped  down  the  pike  to  the  place 
where  the  fox  had  been  crossing,  so  we  could  see 
him.  He  had  been  running  all  day  in  a  circle 
about  five  miles  across,  and  was  beginning  to  get 
pretty  tired,  and  the  men  expected  the  dogs  to 
catch  him  right  soon,  and  they  all  wanted  to  be 
there  when  he  was  caught. 

"We  waited  a  little  while  under  a  clump  of 
trees,  and  soon  we  heard  the  dogs  again,  and 
looking  up,  we  saw  the  fox  himself  coming  down 
through  the  woods.  Instead  of  crossing  the 
pike,  though,  he  turned  and  crossed  a  creek. 


254  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

After  he  crossed  the  creek,  he  circled  around  a 
little,  and  came  back  and  jumped  in  the  water 
again,  and  started  up  the  creek  as  fast  as  he 
could  go,  which  wasn't  very  fast.  After  he  had 
waded  and  swum  about  a  hundred  yards,  he 
came  out  on  the  shore  again,  and,  listening  for  a 
moment  to  see  how  near  the  dogs  were,  he  start- 
ed off  up  the  creek. 

' '  It  was  a  long  while  before  the  dogs  found 
the  trail  again,  and  some  of  the  young  hunters 
wanted  to  take  the  dogs  to  the  place  where  they 
had  seen  him  come  out  of  the  water,  but  the 
older  men  said,  'No';  if  the  fox  had  succeeded 
in  throwing  the  dogs  off  the  trail,  he  was  en- 
titled to  his  life,  and  they  were  going  to  see  a 
fair  fox-hunt;  and  anyway,  if  they  didn't  catch 
him  that  day,  he  would  be  around  there  for  them 
to  chase  some  other  day. 

"At  last  the  old  spotted  dog  ran  slowly  up 
and  down  the  creek  until  he  struck  the  trail,  and 
then  such  a  baying  of  dogs  and  blowing  of  horns 
and  yelling  of  men  you  never  heard. 

' '  The  new  dun  mare  that  grandpa  and  I  were 
riding  danced  and  pranced  until  we  could  hardly 
sit  on  her,  and  when  the  dogs  started  off  again, 
she  almost  broke  away  and  ran  with  them.  It 
was  all  grandpa  could  do  to  hold  her  at  all,  but 


THE  FOX-HUNT.  255 

he  thought  it  was  because  she  wasn't  used  to 
such  excitement. 

' '  In  less  than  an  hour  from  that  time  the  fox 
ran  right  through  our  yard  and  scattered  chick- 
ens and  ducks  and  geese  in  every  direction.  The 
hounds  were  running  him  so  close  that  he  took 
refuge  in  a  little  clump  of  bushes,  where  the  dogs 
couldn't  get  him.  The  hunters  gathered  around 
him,  and  when  they  started  him  out  again,  and 
the  men  who  were  holding  the  dogs  let  them 
loose,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  poor  old  Mr.  Fox 
didn't  have  much  farther  to  go.  He  made  for  a 
fence,  though,  and  got  over  before  the  dogs 
could  get  him,  but  before  he  got  half-way 
through  the  pasture  the  old  big  spotted  dog  was 
on  him,  and  then  they  all  ran  in  and  made  pretty 
short  work  of  him.  The  funny  part  of  it  was 
that  grandpa  was  the  only  one  who  kept  up  with 
the  dogs,  and  he  kept  up  with  them  because  he 
couldn't  help  himself.  When  they  were  get- 
ting the  fox  started  out  of  the  bushes,  grandpa 
was  sitting  by  on  the  dun  mare,  looking  on. 
The  mare  was  prancing  and  pawing  a  little,  but 
as  soon  as  the  dogs  started  after  the  fox,  she 
broke  away  in  spite  of  all  grandpa  could  do,  and 
when  the  dogs  came  to  the  fence  and  jumped 
over  it,  she  just  kept  right  on.  Grandpa  was 


256  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

lying  back  on  the  bridle-reins,  trying  to  hold 
her,  but  she  went  right  over  the  high  rail  fence, 
taking  the  top  rail  with  her  and  catching  the 
stirrup  and  breaking  it  off  on  another  rail. 
Everybody  laughed  and  yelled,  and  when  the 
rest  of  them  caught  up  with  grandpa,  who  was 
kicking  the  dogs  away  to  keep  them  from  tearing 
up  the  fox,  one  of  the  men  said: 

"  '  Where  did  you  get  that  mare,  Mr.  Foster? ' 

"  'Why,'  said  grandpa,  'I  bought  her  from 
one  of  the  Prather  boys  about  a  month  ago. 
She's  a  little  fractious,  isn't  she?  but  she  is 
game  and  can  get  over  the  ground,  and  I  rather 
like  her.' 

"The  other  man  laughed  loud,  and  said: 
'Well,  that  accounts  for  it.  I  was  out  hunting 
with  the  Prather  boys  some  time  ago,  and  one 
of  them  was  riding  that  very  mare.  I  thought 
she  looked  familiar.  Why,  that  mare  is  one  of 
the  best  trained  fox-hunters  in  the  county. 
What  will  you  take  for  her  ? ' 

"But  grandpa  didn't  want  to  sell  her.  He 
didn't  ride  her  on  very  many  fox-hunts,  though, 
for  he  was  too  quiet  and  dignified  to  do  very 
much  hunting.  But  as  long  as  old  Molly  lived, 
she  never  heard  a  horn  blow  or  a  hound  bay 
that  she  didn't  begin  to  prance." 


"D 


"  ABERPERDABER." 

ID  I  ever  tell  you  about  a  magic  word 
that  we  used  to  have  and  that  we 
could  just  say  and  make  anything 
happen  that  we  wanted  to  happen? "  asked  papa 
one  night. 

"Now,  daddy,  that  sounds  just  like  a  fairy 
story,  and  you  know  there  isn't 
any  such  thing  as  fairies  and 
magic.  I  don't  want  you  to  mix 
up  fairy  stories  with  nice  true 
Tucky  stories." 

"Yes;  but  this  is  a  true 
story,"  said  papa.  "You  will 
see  how  much  magic  there  is 
in  it  when  I  get  through  telling 
you." 

"All  right,"  said  the  little 
boy.  ' '  I  see  you  are  just  jok- 
ing about  the  magic  part  of  it.  Go  on,  daddy." 

"Well,  one  time  we  went  to  a  magic  show; 
we  called  it  a  sleight-of-hand  show — that  is  one 
where  a  man  looks  as  if  he  were  doing  things 


"  Aberperdaber!" 


257 


258  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

that  he  isn't  doing  at  all.  That  was  after  I  got 
to  be  a  pretty  big  boy.  My  little  brother  had 
gotten  to  be  bigger  then  than  you  are  now. 

' '  Well,  the  man  gave  a  Punch  and  Judy  show, 
and  then  he  began  to  do  funny  things.  He  held 
his  hat  up  before  the  people,  so  they  could  see 
that  there  was  nothing  in  it,  and  then  he  put  his 
hand  in  it  and  pulled  out  a  white  rabbit  and  a 
lot  of  eggs,  and  I  don't  know  what  all.  Then  he 
asked  one  of  the  boys  to  come  up  on  the  stage. 
He  looked  at  the  boy  a  while,  and  then  said: 
'  Say,  John,  there  is  something  the  matter  with 
your  nose.  Blow  your  nose,  boy.' 

"John  blew  his  nose,  and  a  lot  of  tin  pans 
fell  on  the  floor,  and  looked  as  if  they  came  out 
of  John's  nose.  Then  he  made  the  boy  open  his 
mouth,  and  he  pulled  out  yard  after  yard  of 
ribbon;  then  he  took  a  live  chicken  and  a  gold 
watch  out  of  the  boy's  pockets. 

' '  Every  time  the  man  started  to  do  anything 
he  would  say,  'Abracadabra!'  He  said  he  had 
to  say  that  to  make  the  charm  work.  For  in- 
stance, when  he  put  his  hand  into  the  boy's 
pockets  he  said,  'Abracadabra! '  and  then  pulled 
the  watch  and  chicken  out.  Of  course,  there 
were  no  watch  or  chicken  in  the  boy's  pockets 
any  more  than  there  were  tin  pans  in  his  nose, 


"ABERPERDABER."  259 

but  the  man  was  so  quick  with  his  tricks  that  he 
made  it  look  that  way. 

"Well,  the  next  day  Uncle  Ben  and  I  were 
playing  all  sorts  of  tricks.  There  were  two  lit- 
tle darkies  on  the  farm,  and  we  played  most  of 
our  tricks  on  them.  One  little  darkey  boy  was 
named  Garrett,  and  he  heard  '  Abracadabra ! '  a 
good  many  times  in  the  next  day  or  two.  I 
handed  him  a  penny  and  just  as  he  was  about  to 
take  it,  I  said,  'Abracadabra!'  and  flipped  the 
penny  up  my  sleeve.  After  a  while,  when  we 
were  all  in  the  corn-crib,  Garrett  was  sitting  on 
the  floor,  and  I  said:  'Now,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, you  see  this  magic  gentleman  from  Ethi- 
opia. He  will  disappear  through  the  floor  or  into 
the  air  while  you  are  looking  at  him.  Abraca- 
dabra! '  And  just  as  I  said  the  magic  word,  we 
turned  a  barrel  over  the  little  negro  and  sat 
down  on  it. 

"  He  set  up  a  howl,  but  I  kept  on  talking  to 
the  imaginary  audience:  'Now,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, he  will  appear  again,  coming  down 
through  the  roof.  Abracadabra! '  And  we 
turned  the  barrel  over  again. 

"Garrett  heard  so  much  'abracadabra'  that 
his  life  was  a  burden. 

"  One  day,  pretty  soon  after  that,  Garrett — ' 


260  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

"Say,  daddy,"  interrupted  the  little  boy, 
! '  where  were  Henry  and  Jimmy  ? : ' 

"Well,"  said  papa,  with  a  sad,  far-away  look 
on  his  face,  "that  was  after  the  good  old  days 
were  beginning  to  pass  away;  that  was  after  I 
got  to  be  a  big  boy.  Jimmy  was  dead  and 
buried  in  the  old  locust  grove.  I  saw  his  grave 
last  year  when  I  was  back  in  Kentucky.  Henry 
had  gone  away,  and  these  new  negroes  were  ne- 
groes whose  mother  had  belonged  to  some  other 
white  people  away  back  in  the  country,  and 
hadn't  been  as  well  raised  as  our  family  of 
colored  folks.  No,  honey,  it  wasn't  Henry  or 
Jimmy  this  time. 

"Well,  as  I  started  to  say,  Garrett  was  run- 
ning through  the  yard  one  day  shortly  after  we 
had  begun  to  play  'abracadabra'  tricks.  He 
didn't  have  on  any  clothes  except  a  cotton  shirt 
and  a  pair  of  cotton  pants,  about  like  your  over- 
alls. His  pants  were  held  up  by  one  string  for  a 
suspender;  the  string  broke  and  the  pants  came 
down,  and  he  stepped  right  out  of  them  before 
he  could  stop. 

'  Aberperdaber! '  shouted  Garrett,  as  he 
stopped  short  and  looked  down  at  his  lost  pants 
and  his  bare,  black  legs;  then  he  gathered  them 
up  and  ran  back  to  the  cabin. 


"ABERPERDABER."  261 

"Grandpa  was  right  near  by,  and  he  didn't 
say  anything  until  Garrett  had  run  away,  when 
he  almost  hurt  himself  laughing.  After  that, 
whenever  anything  unexpected  happened,  some- 
body said,  '  Aberperdaber!'  Say  it  to  grandma 
sometime,  and  see  if  she  doesn't  laugh,  and  if 
you  ever  go  back  to  Kentucky  and  meet  your 
Uncle  Ben,  say  it  to  him  if  anything  happens. 
He  will  know  what  it  means." 


JOE  AND  THE  DEAD  INDIAN. 


ONE  SUNDAY  morning  when  old   Uncle 
Joe  had  got  the  carriage  ready  for  grand- 
ma and  all  of  us  to  go  to  church,  and  had 
come    around    to    un- 
hitch  the   horses   and 
help  us  all  off,  grand- 
pa noticed  that  there 
was  a  can  of  something 
in  Joe's  pocket. 

"What's  that  old 
can  you've  got  in 
your  pocket,  Joe?" 
said  grandpa. 

' 'Oh!  that's  jes'  a 
old  tomato-can  I  found 
out  heah,"  said  Joe,  -o  Lawdy,  MT. 

pushing  it  back  out  of  sight. 

Just  then  grandpa  went  in  the  house  for 
something,  and  one  of  the  horses,  old  Charlie, 
who  had  a  kind  of  a  spite  at  Joe,  bit  at  him. 

"Stop  yo'  foolishness!"  said  Joe,  slapping  at 
him.  "You  like  to  knock  all  dem  feesh-wo'ms 

262 


JOE  AND  THE  DEAD  INDIAN.  263 

out  o'  my  pocket.  If  you  do,  de  boss  gwine  to 
settle  me,  'cause  he  don't  allow  no  niggahs  goin' 
fishin'  on  Sunday." 

After  the  folks  had  all  gone  to  church,  Joe 
got  his  fishing-pole  and  started  for  the  creek. 
When  he  got  there  he  found  an  old  tree  that  had 
fallen  from  the  bank  and  was  lying  partly  over 
in  the  water. 

"That 's  a  mighty  good  place  to  feesh,"  said 
Joe.  "I  '11  bet  they 's  great  big  ones  right 
'roun'  dat  old  log  an'  in  dem  rocks." 

So  he  climbed  out  on  the  tree,  leaned  back 
against  a  limb,  unrolled  his  line,  and  started  to 
fishing.     Pretty  soon  he  had  a  fine  string  of 
fish  and  had  the  string  tied  to  a  limb  of  the  tree 
the  fish  flopping  about  in  the  water. 

After  a  while  the  sun  became  hot,  and  Joe 
got  a  little  sleepy.  The  fish  did  not  bite  very 
fast,  and  Joe  got  to  singing  low  to  himself— 
lining  out  the  words  and  then  singing  them.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  was  sound  asleep.  The  next 
thing  Joe  knew  there  was  a  strong  pull  at  his 
line,  and  he  lost  his  balance  and  slipped  down 
into  the  water.  It  was  not  more  than  knee- 
deep  right  there,  but  Joe  was  still  about  half 
asleep  and  he  was  awfully  scared.  The  sun  had 
gone  down,  and  it  was  getting  cloudy,  and  the 


264  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

wind  had  got  up  and  was  washing  the  water  into 
waves,  and  as  Joe  splashed  to  the  shore  he  felt 
cold  chills  running  up  and  down  his  back,  and  he 
began  to  wonder  what  the  boss  would  say  when 
he  got  home. 

"Gosh!"  says  Joe.  "Wonder  how  I  hap- 
pened to  slip  in  dat  watah,  an'  what  time  o'  de 
day  is  it,  anyhow?  Dar  now,"  he  says,  "dar  is 
de  red  place  whah  de  sun  jes  crep  ober  dat  hill, 
an'  it 's  pas'  milkin'-time,  an'  I  done  set  here  on 
dis  log  foolin'  away  all  Sunday,  an'  I  reckon  de 
ole  Mahs  '11  wonder  ef  I  hain't  got  los'  some- 
whah." 

As  Joe  got  out  on  the  bank  he  looked  around, 
and  there  was  a  big  green  lizard  in  the  old  stone 
wall  just  in  front  of  him. 

"Goodness  live!"  he  says,  "I  wonder  if  I  's 
hoodooed?" 

Joe  grabbed  up  his  fish  and  started  off  home. 
He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  happened  to 
touch  three  teeth  that  he  had  been  carrying. 

"Dar,  now!"  he  says.  "I  know  what  's  de 
mattah.  Dese  heah  Injun  teef  done  hoodooed 
me.' 

A  short  time  before  this,  Joe  had  helped 
grandpa  to  open  one  of  the  Indian  graves  on  the 
place,  and  they  had  found  a  dozen  of  the  old 


JOE  AND  THE  DEAD  INDIAN.  265 

Indian's  teeth,   almost  as  good  as  they  were 
when  he  was  buried. 

.  "1  knowed  I  didn't  hab  no  business  takin' 
dem  teef,"  said  Joe.  "Dat  ole  Injun's  sperit 
gwine  to  follow  me  twel  I  get  rid  of  dese  heah 
teef." 

He  was  afraid  to  throw  them  away,  so  he  left 
them  in  his  pocket  and  started  on  for  home. 

It  was  growing  dusk  now,  and  just  as  Joe 
started  through  the  woods  an  owl  flew  right  over 
him  and  called  out:  "Who!  Who!" 

Joe  dodged,  and  said:  "Who?  Who?  I 
hain't  nobody  in  pahticlah.  Who's  you?" 

But  Joe  knew  all  about  owls,  and  he  soon  saw 
that  it  was  nothing  but  an  owl,  after  all. 

By  the  time  Joe  got  through  the  woods  it 
was  almost  dark,  and  as  he  jumped  over  the 
fence  to  start  through  the  pasture,  he  stumbled 
in  some  soft  dirt  and  fell  forward,  and  his  hand 
struck  something  hard  and  his  fingers  went  right 
through  it. 

"Lawd  a-massy!"  said  Joe,  as  he  pulled  his 
hand  out  of  the  hole.  Joe  had  stumbled  into  the 
Indian  grave,  and  the  old  Indian's  skull  stuck  to 
his  hand  where  he  had  run  his  fingers  through 
the  eye-holes.  Joe  fell  back  against  a  little  bush, 
scared  almost  to  death,  and  pulled  at  the  skull 


266  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

again  to  get  it  off  his  hand.  Just  then  from 
across  on  the  other  side  of  the  grave  he  saw  a 
pair  of  eyes  and  a  couple  of  long  horns  pointed 
right  at  him. 

"Good  Lawd  a-massy!  Mr.  Injun,"  said  Joe, 
"I  didn't  want  yo'  teef;  heah  dey  is.  I  didn't 
mean  to  keep  'em  nohow.  Ef  you  '11  jes'  let  me 
go  dis  time,  I  '11  nevah  fool  with  any  mo'  Injun 
grabes  as  long  as  I  lib." 

A  little  motion  among  the  bushes  where  Joe 
saw  the  eyes  and  the  horns,  scared  him  still 
worse.  Shaking  the  skull  off  his  hand,  he  threw 
it  down  and  threw  the  teeth  after  it,  and  started 
at  break-neck  speed  out  of  the  bushes  for  home. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  grave,  Whittaker's  old 
brindle  cow  started  off  on  a  run  in  another  di- 
rection, about  as  badly  scared  as  Joe  was. 

When  Joe  got  home  he  told  a  pretty  wild 
story  about  seeing  the  Indian,  and  it  took  grand- 
pa two  or  three  days  to  figure  out  what  he  had 
really  seen.  Joe  never  would  believe  it  was 
anything  but  the  Indian,  however,  and  he  never 
fished  on  Sunday  again. 


"GRANDPAP'S  COME.1 


a  bite,  daddy,"  said  the  little  boy, 
holding  up  a  small  and  very  dirty  piece 
of  cooky  that  he  seemed  unable  himself 
to  find  room  for. 

"Oh!  that  's  too  dirty  to 
eat,"  said  papa.  "Throw  it 
away." 

The  little  boy  threw  it  away, 
and,  looking  up  at  his  father, 
said:    "  I  spect  dat  reminds 
of  a  story.  " 

"Well,  so  it  does,  sure 
enough,"  said  papa,  laughing. 
"I  '11  tell  you  about  Billy  Jones 
and  his  sweetcake.  Mr.  Jones, 
Billy's  father,  lived  in  a  tenant- 
house  on  grandpa's  farm.  He 
had  eight  children.  One  day  I  was  riding  old 
Bess  down  to  the  pond  to  water,  and  one  of  the 
Jones  boys  was  standing  on  the  bank,  throwing 
rocks  at  the  frogs.  The  boy  was  named  Helm, 
after  an  old  Baptist  preacher,  but  his  folks  all 

267 


'Hev  a  sweetcake?'' 


268  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

called  him  'Helium,'  and  when  his  father  or 
mother  went  out  in  the  yard  and  called  'Heli- 
um' to  dinner  from  the  tobacco-patch,  they 
would  say,  'O  Hell-urn!  Hell-u-u-u-m!'  and  it 
sounded  sometimes  as  if  they  were  going  to 
leave  the  'urn'  off  altogether. 

"Well,  'Helium'  sidled  up  to  old  Bess  as  I 
rode  out  of  the  pond,  and,  ducking  his  head  to 
one  side,  as  if  he  were  going  to  brag  about 
something,  said: 

"'Say,  grandpap  's  a-comin';  he's  a-comin' 
to  make  us  a  visit.  Grandpap  hain't  po',  like  us 
all  is;  grandpap 's  rich.  Grandpap  lives  'way 
up  beyant  Mayslick,  fo'teen  mile  fum  heah — 
'way  off  yander.  Grandpap 's  rich.  He  's  got 
two  whole  teams  'at  b'longs  to  him.' 

"Next  day  I  saw  another  one  of  the  boys, 
named  Andrew  Jackson;  they  called  him  'An- 
der.'  I  was  at  the  stable,  and  'Ander'  came 
along.  He  followed  me  from  the  stable  to  the 
corn-crib  and  back  several  times,  and  at  last  he 
gave  me  a  sort  of  nudge  in  the  side  with  his  el- 
bow, and  said: 

"Say,  grandpap 's  a-comin';  he's  a-comin' 
to  stay  a  hull  week.  Grandpap  lives  'way  up 
beyant  the  Lick.  Grandpap  's  rich.  Mam's 
a-makin'  the  chillun  some  new  clo'es  now.  Hel- 


"GRANDPAP  'S  COME."  269 

lum  an'  Billy  's  got  some  new  clo'es.  Me  an' 
Jeffe'son  an'  Anson,  we  's  kinda  middlin'  size, 
an'  we  gits  Billy's  an'  Helium's  old  clo'es  what 
they  done  outgrowed,  an'  by  the  time  we  's  out- 
growed  'em,  they  done  wo'  out,  so  the  littles' 
chillun  they  gits  new  clo'es  too.  The  bigges' 
chillun  they  gits  new  clo'es  an'  the  littles'  chillun 
gits  new  clo'es  or  old  clo'es  made  over,  what  's 
jes'  the  same  as  new,  an'  us  middle  fellers  we  has 
to  allus  weah  out  the  ole  ones.  Hit  's  mighty 
bad  to  be  jes'  middlin '-like,  hain't  it?  I  wisht  I 
was  as  big  as  Billy  an'  Helium — an' — an' — you; 
You  all 's  erbout  the  same  size,  ain't  you  ?  What 
you  do  with  all  yo'  ole  clo'es  ? ' 

' '  '  Ander '  sized  me  up  with  his  eye.  It  was  a 
pretty  good  hint,  so  I  took  him  up  to  the  house 
with  me,  and  when  he  went  away  he  carried  a 
big  bundle  of  clothes  about  the  right  size  for 
him  and  Jefferson  and  Anson. 

"Next  day  Mrs.  Jones  came  up  to  the  house 
and  said  to  grandma: 

"'Say,  Mrs.  Foster,  I  wanter  borry  yo ' 
bilin'  kittle.  Pap  's  a-comin'.  Pap  's  better 
off  'n  us  all.  Pap  's  eighty-fo'  yeah  old  an'  as 
spry  as  a  kitten.  Pap  lives  'way  up  tother  side 
o'  the  Lick.' 

"Two  or  three  days  later  I  was  out  in  the 


270  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

field  after  the  cows.  Anson  came  running  across 
the  field,  waving  at  me  and  calling: 

"  'Say!'  he  yelled  when  he  came  up  almost 
out  of  breath,  '  ye  know  grandpap  was  a-comin'  ? 
Grandpap  's  rich.  Grandpap  lives  'way  up — ' 

"  '  I  tell  you  what  I  've  got,'  I  broke  in,  'that 
you  could  use  when  your  grandpap  comes:  a 
whole  lot  of  neckties  that  are  nearly  as  good  as 
new.  If  you  '11  help  me  drive  these  cows  home, 
I  '11  get  them  for  you.  You  go  away  over  to 
that  corner  of  the  field  and  I  '11  go  over  the  other 
way,  and  we  '11  get  them  quick.' 

"I  couldn't  get  away  from  that  grandpap 
story,  however,  and  before  we  got  to  the  barn- 
lot  I  had  heard  it  all  over  again. 

"Next  day  when  Mr.  Jones  and  all  the  boys 
big  enough  to  work  were  out  in  the  tobacco- 
patch,  I  went  past  the  house,  and  the  three 
little  children,  led  by  'Marthy  Washin'ton,'  four 
years  old,  came  running  out  after  me: 

"  'Thay!'  yelled  'Marthy,'  'dranpap  'th  a- 
tomin'.  Dranpap  liveth — ' 

"But  I  didn't  hear  the  rest  of  it;  I  hurried  on 
as  fast  as  I  could,  leaving  'Marthy  Washin'ton' 
talking  and  the  rest  of  them  making  signs. 

"I  dodged  the  Jones  family  for  a  day  or  two, 
but  grandma  kept  me  pretty  busy  carrying 


"GRANDPAP'S  COME."  271 

things  to  Mrs.  Jones  that  she  thought  would  be 
needed  when  grandpap  came,  so  I  heard  the 
story  pretty  often. 

"One  morning  I  went  out  in  the  yard,  and 
there  stood  Billy,  dressed  in  his  Sunday  clothes. 
He  stood  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other 
for  a  little  while,  with  his  hands  deep  in  his 
trousers  pockets,  and  then  he  humped  his  left 
shoulder  up  as  high  as  he  could  and  pulled  his 
left  hand  out  with  a  great  big  soft  cake  crushed 
between  his  fingers.  He  proudly  handed  it  to 
me,  and  said: 

"'Hev  a  sweetcake?     Grandpap 's  come.'" 


THE  CIRCUS. 

"\  \  THY,  DADDY!   what  have  you  got 

V  V  vour  'gymnasum'  suit  on  for?"  said 
the  little  boy  in  some  astonishment 
one  night  as  he  went  upstairs  to  bed. 

"Let — me — see,"  said  papa.  "What  was  it 
I  put  this  suit  on  for,  anyway  ?  Maybe  I  thought 
I  was  getting  into  my  dress-suit  and  made  a  mis- 
take. Say,  mamma,  is  there  a  party  anywhere 
to-night?  It 's  a  good  thing  you  spoke  rist 
when  you  did,  isn't  it,  old  man?  or  I  might  have 
gone  to  the  party  this  way." 

•'Oh,  daddy!  Stop  your  jokin*  and  tell  us 
what  you  are  going  to  do.  Oh,  I  know!  I 
know!"  said  the  little  boy,  jumping  up  and 
down.  "  I  asked  you  to  show  the  baby  how  we 
used  to  play  circus,  didn't  I  ?  and  you  are  going 
to  show  us  now;  I  know  you  are." 

"Well — now — "  said  papa,  slowly,  "maybe 
that  was  it.  Anyway,  as  long  as  I  have  on  the 
circus  clothes,  I  suppose  we  might  as  well  go  to 
the  circus  a  little  while.  Of  course,  if  you  gen- 
tlemen don't  care  for  a  circus  this  evening,  I 

272 


"THE  DOORS  ARE  NOW  OPEN;  CRAWL  UNDER  THE  TENT." 


THE  CIRCUS.  275 

won't  insist  on  it.     Don't  let  me  bore  you  gen- 
tlemen with  any  of  my — " 

"Oh,  daddy!  Come  on,  and  let 's  have  the 
circus." 

"  Hab  succut,  hab  succut,  papa;  come  on,  es 
hab  succut." 

"Go  on  now,  daddy,  and  have  the  circus; 
and  don't  wear  your  audience  out  with  a  lot  of 
talk  before  you  do  anything,  as  you  sometimes 
do  older  folks,"  said  mamma. 

"Certainly,  madam,"  said  papa,  taking  off 
an  imaginary  hat.  "Deference  to  the  wishes  of 
the  ladies  is  one  of  my  principal  failings.  Gen- 
tlemen, you  have  heard  the  lady  command  that 
the  show  begin.  We  must  immediately  close 
the—" 

"Hab  succut,  hab  succut  wight  now." 

' '  I  was  just  going  to  say  when  the  gentle- 
man interrupted  me,  in  answer  to  the  lady's  ir- 
relevant remark,  that  talk  moves  the  world— 
that  is,  talk  moves  money  and  money  moves  the 
world.  It  sells  railroad  bonds,  life  insurance, 
mining  stocks,  oil  lands,  and  gold  bricks.  Talk, 
if  properly  infused  into  a  peripatetic,  phono- 
graphic, perambulating  rug -peddler,  has  been 
known  to  sell  a  two-dollar  rug  for  four  dollars 
and  thirty-seven  cents,  payable  weekly,  with  a 


276  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

square  meal  and  a  drink  of  water  thrown  In  with 
each  payment.  Why,  I  know  a  lady  who,  only  a 
few  short  years  ago,  made  one  little  contract — 
a  matrimonial  contract — by  which  she  acquired 
a  million  or  more  in  various  kinds  of  assets,  and 
then  fell  before  the  word-painting  of  the  rug- 
peddler.  But,  gentlemen,  I  digress.  I  would 
now  like  to  call  your  attention  to — ' 
"  Hab  succut,  hab  succut  wight  now." 
"Have  patience,  gentlemen,  and  you  will  all 
get  the  best  seats.  As  I  was  saying,  we  must 
close  the  ticket- wagon  at  once,  and  all  repair  to 
the  magnificent  triple  tent,  the  most  gorgeous 
and  capacious  spread  of  canvas  ever  seen  in  this 
country.  Three  rings,  all  in  beautiful  and  be- 
wildering action  at  once,  and  the  greatest  ag- 
gregation of  animals  ever  seen  since  Noah  filled 
the  ark." 

"Don't  awnt  Noah's  awk;  awnt  succut." 
"The  gentleman  who  has  become  a  resident 
of  this  delightful  country  since  we  last  showed 
on  these  beautiful  and  magnificent  grounds 
seems  to  be  lamentably  short  on  the  virtue  of 
patience,  and  also  betrays  a  remarkable  ina- 
bility to  comprehend  any  and  all  reference  to 
allusions.  The  gentleman  also  betrays <  by  his 
peculiar  use  of  the  English  language,  the  fact 


THE  CIRCUS.  277 

that  he  is  a  very  recent  importation  from  some 
foreign  country,  but  from  what  particular  coun- 
try no  one,  I  am  sure,  could  tell  from  his  pe- 
culiar brogue.  I  have  no  doubt,  however,  that 
the  gentleman  has  his  naturalization  papers 
with  him  and  has  voted  at  every  election  since 
his  first  landing  at  'Cradle'  Garden." 

' '  Now,  look  here.  It  's  bedtime  this  minute, 
and  if  you  don't  have  that '  succut '  and  let  those 
children  go  to  bed — " 

"Gentlemen,  the  doors  are  now  open;  crawl 
under  the  tent." 

And  papa  jumped  into  bed,  pulled  the  sheet 
all  over  him,  turned  over  on  his  back,  and  put 
both  legs  up  as  high  as  he  could  for  the  tent- 
poles.  Both  boys  rolled  under  the  tent,  and  the 
show  began. 

As  the  large  and  appreciative  audience 
came  in,  the  music  was  under  full  headway. 
The  music  was  a  rather  boisterous  imitation  of  a 
bass-drum  and  several  other  kinds  of  instru- 
ments, to  the  tune  of  "Old  John  Amberg,"  and 
wound  up  at  the  end  of  every  verse  with: 

"  The  elephant  now  goes  'round,  the  band  begins 

to  play; 

The  boys  around  the  monkeys'  cage  had  better 
keep  away. 

This  was  followed  by  a  bewildering  and  jaw- 


278  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

breaking  description  of  animals,  which  almost 
everybody  has  heard  in  the  song  of  ''Old  John 
Amberg." 

"And  here,"  continued  the  showman,  taking 
the  two-year-old  up  in  his  arms  at  the  risk  of 
half  of  the  tent  coming  down,  "here  is  the  only 
living  specimen  of  the  great  and  wonderful 
gyras-ti-ma-cutus.  To  an  untrained  ear,  gentle- 
men, this  may  sound  like  the  name  of  one  of  the 
remarkable  animals  captured  by  a  showman  by 
the  name  of  Kipling  in  the  wilds  of  India,  but 
permit  me  to  say,  gentlemen,  that  it  is  totally 
different  in  etymology,  entomology,  and  anthro- 
pology. He  is  not  only  the  last  of  his  kind,  but 
the  first  and  only  one  ever  heard  of  on  top  of 
the  earth;  and,  gentlemen,  the  most  wonderful 
thing  about  this  great  and  only  gyras-ti-ma- 
cutus  is  that  if  another  one  just  like  him  should 
be  captured  somewhere  in  the  wilds  of  '  Where- 
isiticus,'  and  should  be  exploited  in  this  same 
wonderful  show  a  year  or  two  from  now,  he 
would  be  just  as  much  of  a  freak  and  wonder 
as  this  one. 

"Who  threw  that  brick? "  said  the  showman, 
stopping  short  in  his  talk  and  looking  out  from 
under  the  tent.  "Never  mind.  It  was  only  a 
spool  of  thread  and  was  thrown  by  the  lady 


THE  CIRCUS.  279 

whose  duty  it  is  to  follow  the  show,  cook  for 
the  roustabouts,  and  mend  the  monkey  clothes. 
She  was  probably  throwing  at  the  wild  man  from 
Borneo  on  the  other  side  of  the  grounds. 

"I  will  now,  gentlemen,  show  you  some  of 
the  wonderful  and  thrilling  performances  of  this 
great  gyras-ti-ma-cutus."  And  grabbing  the 
baby  by  the  legs,  papa  turned  him  over  in  a 
somersault  between  the  two  tent-poles.  The 
gyras-ti-ma-cutus  was  laughing  and  screaming, 
and  managed  to  bring  out  from  the  maze  of 
words  and  inarticulate  yells,  "De  efment  go 
wound." 

"Gentlemen,"  continued  the  showman,  "one 
of  the  peculiar  and  incomprehensible  traits  of 
this  wonderful  animal  is  that  he  takes  to  the 
English  language  as  a  hen  takes  to  water;  and 
another  is,  that  if  he  doesn't  get  what  he  de- 
mands the  moment  he  demands  it,  he  is  liable  to 
break  up  the  show  and  eat  up  the  acrobats.  He 
has  a  peculiar  fondness  for  the  sacred  cows  of— 

"Efment  go  wound,  band  p'ay,"  demanded 
the  gyras-ti-ma-cutus,  showing  signs  of  an  im- 
pending fit  of  tearing  up  something,  so  the  show- 
man cut  out  the  rest  of  his  description,  and 
started  up  the  band.  The  band  had  not  played 
very  long  and  the  elephant  had  not  gone  around 
many  times,  when  the  showman  a*ddressed  the 


280  WHEN  DADDY  WAS  A  BOY. 

audience  in  a  voice  full  of  apprehension  and 
warning: 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  regret 
to  announce  that  a  terrible  wind-storm  is  bearing 
down  on  us  from  the  west,  and  I  doubt  very 
much  if  anything  less  substantial  than  a  hole  in 
the  ground  will  be  left  when  it  passes.  I  under- 
stand from  our  press  agent  that  it  all  started 
from  a  small  political  meeting  somewhere  out  in 
western  Kansas,  and,  while  its  force  and  ve- 
locity have  been  abating  ever  since  it  left  the 
storm-center,  it  is  still  sweeping  everything  be- 
fore it.  Gentlemen,  the  tent-poles  are  already 
beginning  to  sway  with  the  force  of  the  storm. 
Flee  for  your  lives.  Never  mind  the  ladies; 
there  's  plenty  of  them  outside." 

But  before  the  vast  audience  could  get  out 
of  the  way,  the  big  tent-poles  came  down  in  a 
heap,  and  there  was  the  worst  mix-up  of  tent- 
poles,  animals,  audience,  and  canvas  that  ever 
was  heard  of. 

"The  wrecking  -  wagon  may  now  appear," 
said  the  showman,  as  quietly  and  calmly  as  if  the 
audience  were  not  still  squirming  and  screaming 
under  the  tent-poles  and  canvas.  And  mamma 
began  to  pull  the  hysterical  audience  out  of  the 
wreck  and  trim  it  for  bed. 


